Scattered Treasures
by ElocinMuse
Summary: A bunch of Oneshot goodies. Mostly JE fluff, but not soley them. No Will bashings, though.
1. Author's Note

_Author's Note:_

**MY BOOTY SNICKLE SNICKLE! TOOTSWEET, C'MON!**

Alright, now that I have your attention...

This will just be a bunch of oneshots, basically. Coming into these oneshots, there are some things you may care to know about them. I am a diehard Jack/Liz fan, so don't expect too much Willabeth. Sorry! I will not just focus on them, nor will I only focus on Jack Sparrow. He is my favorite character of all time, but I will not forget the others, either. Again, I am sorry, I do not much care for Will. I have no qualms with Orlando Bloom, in fact, I like him quite a lot. I don't hate Will, and I understand that he is necessary to the plot. I will more than likely even write a bit with solely him, and perhaps his father. Before each "chapter", I will tell you the pairings, and any warnings that may come with them, etc. I DO NOT WRITE SLASH! barfs

I am more than open to requests, and all reviews are welcome. I don't mind flames, either. Keeps me on my toes. :D

I hope you all might enjoy my bouts of nonsense!


	2. Two Hearts

**AN: This takes place during AWE, or POTC3. Remember that this is just my nonsense, not actual events. If these happenings do occur, I will die of shock. They are based off of spoilers, though. Contains a bit of drama, an honorable mention of Mr. Turner, and a silly cameo by Hector Barbossa. No apple, though, more's the pity. **

**Warnings: A bunch of innuendos, but nothing past PG-13. Bits of spoilers for potc3, naturally.**

**Pairings: J/BP, J/T, J/E**

**Disclaimer: Bah! I own nothing! **

.Two Hearts.

The _Black Pearl _gently rocked back and forth in a lulling motion, still in the calm waters. It was mid-afternoon, the crew set to their tasks relatively quietly. Warming sunshine encompassed a great portion of the captain's cabin, its entrance permitted by the plated windows. Such things had been replaced and refurbished from past attacks due to phantom ships and mythical sea beasts.

A quiet moan elicited from a secluded corner where the sun's rays just barely touched. Captain Jack Sparrow sat up, stretching like a cat and emitting a silent yawn. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his hands over his face, forcing the sleep out of himself. It had been some time since he'd awoken at such an hour.

After another brief yawn, his dark bare eyes, which were normally lined in kohl, casually surveyed the room in search of his shirt.

Following a fleeting hunt, he gave up and took to admiring his dark lady ship. A loving smile ghosted over his lips. They truly were of one soul. He began to recount their moments together, and his smile faded as he recalled many painful memories.

Jack rubbed absentmindedly at his branded forearm.

Fire... watery darkness… mutiny… years of separation… his debt… a kraken.

What battles he had fought for this ship.

Jack bit his lower lip and sighed, about to rise from the comfort of his bed. However, the sudden slight weight on his bare shoulder made him pause. He turned his head so that he could rest his gaze on the dark feminine hand that held him back. A pleased smirk spread on his face as his attention flickered then to another pair of black eyes.

Tia Dalma smiled, sleep still laced in her features. "And where do you thinks you are off to, my fledgling?" she questioned with a knowing chide, pulling him back to her.

Jack huffed good-naturedly and allowed her to draw him backwards until he rested comfortably on his back, his head on her stomach while the crook of her arm held him upright. "Nowhere important," he confessed as she played with his hair, brushing it away from his face.

"A captain must tend to him ship," she mused softly. "A ship well-earned."

"Mm," Jack acknowledged, his eyes closing as she traced her fingers lightly over his lips and jaw line. She remembered the touch of those lips on her own, and it pleased her.

She truly admired this man. He intrigued her greatly. She appreciated how the golden rays reflected off his bronze skin, and all the scars that decorated his form. She was older than he, but he had always seemed far wiser than his age called for. She knew he did not remove his masks for many women, if at all any. She briefly wondered if it was because of her hold over him. She mused that it was partly the case.

He was different than other men. It was because he knew things. Things that mortal men should not know.

He knew of the sea, and how such a lady could never be tamed. He spoke to his ship as if she were living--and oh, what a jealous mistress she was. The _Pearl _was not akin to share with land. Nor was she akin to share with the living, feminine sort. This was the _Pearl's _captain, and no other's.

While Tia could sense the possessiveness beneath her, it was not as strong as it surely could have been. She believed it was because the dark lady recognized her.

The captain, however, was drawn to the gypsy woman. Perhaps it was because he was familiar with her chains, and he sought to free her. She couldn't be certain, which irritated her, yet warmed her all the same.

Maybe it was because of this. She had always known the hearts of men, but Sparrow was not so easily read. This was why he intrigued her--why she genuinely fancied more than tolerated his attention.

He was of the sea. As one with it. As one with his ship. There were not many men left with such traits. It was a pity.

Her eyes watched his form as he sighed again with contentment. She tilted her head and traced her hand over his cheek, his skin smooth beneath her fingers.

Then again, perhaps it wasn't such a pity.

Too much of a good thing… could be a disaster.

Captain Jack Sparrow was certainly no disaster. To her heart perhaps, but not to the sea. Lady Luck seemed to be in love with him. She could tell by the gentle lapping of the waves at the _Pearl's _hull that the sea adored him.

She smiled, and he opened his eyes, a faint playful gleam in them.

"Did I thank you yet for saving my life?" he inquired nobly.

Her smile grew into a grin as she stared down at him from her slight sitting position on the bed. Having her arms full of Jack Sparrow pleased her more than she thought it would. "You did," she affirmed, "more than once."

He chuckled and sat up slightly, and she wrapped her bare arms around his strong shoulders. "Indeed, I did," he agreed with a grin, settling himself into a more comfortable position. "But you went through an awful lot to get me back," he reminded, the playful gleam in his eyes now more pronounced.

A soft laugh escaped her lips and Sparrow seemed pleased with it. "You have no idea, Jack Sparrow."

He pouted in parody of the situation. "Then our debt is not yet settled, I rather fear."

"Yes," she nodded. "You know I demand payment."

Sparrow's eyes looked up at her, wide and innocent. "Mmmm... what sort of payment?" he asked throatily, his smirk returning.

She gazed down at him adoringly. "_Fair _payment," she said matter-of-factly, "_Good_ payment. Better than our last encounter." She smiled, knowing her words would irritate him.

They did.

This time, the pout was authentic. He looked away from her, his cheeks suddenly rosy. She fought the urge to laugh at his discomfort.

"_Last time_," he began with feeling, fighting for words, "I had two bullets lodged in my hide, so it was hardly fair judgment on your part." He continued to mumble, looking like a battered puppy.

"Oh." She smiled softly.

"_Oh_," he mocked, slouching in her arms, his pride deflated.

"I apologize," she amended. "For wit' that forgotten knowledge, it was quite impressive."

He smiled slightly. It seemed he had forgiven her. "A valiant effort for a man half-dead?"

She shook slightly with mirth, her musical laughter carrying within the confines of the cabin. "Truly, then, it t'was indeed."

"That's what I thought," he huffed, sticking up his chin before resting it on her shoulder as she traced gentle patterns on his back.

"About that payment, Jack Sparrow," she reminded softly.

She could feel him smirk against her. "Yes, about that."

She giggled uncharacteristically as his arms snaked around her waist through the bed covers. She and him both knew they were speaking of something far greater than playful bedtime activities, for he had made a promise to her long ago. A promise he intended to keep. Jack Sparrow could never stand to see another free spirit caged.

Tia's heart leapt. It was only a matter of time, now.

She felt his lips on her throat and hugged him to herself, smiling and closing her eyes in contentment.

Jack felt the thrumming of her vocal chords beneath his lips as she laughed, and he smiled against her, running his hands up her arms.

A sudden knock ruined their moment.

"Cap'n?" Gibbs' voice was stifled from behind the closed cabin door.

Jack growled into the pillow and Tia smiled approvingly, smoothing her hand over his hair in comfort, playing with the ends of his bandana. True, she was just as disappointed that they had been interrupted, but it was by time they greeted the outside world. Besides, there was plenty of time to make up for what they were denied.

"Yes, Gibbs?" Sparrow all but snapped, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Not even the light-hearted Gibbs could ignore the venom in those words; muffled or not. "You're alone, ain't you?" He questioned carefully.

"In fact, I'm not," Jack lamented, sitting up slightly.

"…Oh," he heard Gibbs' hesitant and regretful response. "Apologies, sir."

"Forgiven, but not forgotten; what is it?"

"We got Tortuga on our horizon, shall we make for it?" Gibbs queried, getting down to business.

"How are our stores?" his captain asked.

"Fair, but they could use a fill."

Jack nodded, though Gibbs could not see it. "The Turtle, it is, Joshamee. Make for it, I'll be out soon."

Before he could turn his attention back fully to the woman he was recently sharing his bed with, Gibbs spoke once more. "Oh, Miss Swann be wantin' to have a word with you, should I send her in? Are you decent?"

Jack's face fell, the words striking him like a cannon shot.

Tia's smile faded and her eyes fell downcast. Just like that, he was gone from her enchanting hold. At the very mention of the girl's name, he was no longer susceptible to her charms.

Before Jack could protest, he could hear the irritated complaints of a familiar voice. Faintly he made out things like: "bloody", "lazy", and a certain lack of caring if he had had proper beauty rest or not. If the situation were different, he might have admired what a fine pirate she was becoming.

The cabin door burst open and Elizabeth made her entrance. "Jack, I need…" her voice trailed off as she took in the sight before her.

Jack cleared his throat, trying not to meet her gaze. "Was there something?"

Elizabeth Swann regained her composure impressively. Sniffing and licking her lips, she told him, "Well, I was going to ask you if you would help me at the helm, but… seeing as you're busy, I'll figure it out myself." With that, she made her departure.

Jack lowered his head slightly, feeling a surprising flicker of guilt. Tia's head was bowed, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. They remained in silence for some time.

"Follow her," she said finally.

Jack met her eyes, as if he were seeking proper permission. It was so out of his character that she had to let him go. She nodded her head towards the door, a faint smile, sad, on her lips. "Go on."

He said nothing in return, only rose from the bed and left.

Elizabeth was seething, marching haughtily across the deck, muttering angrily to herself inside her head. Mutterings about how they were working, and Jack Sparrow was playing. Sure, it was not backbreaking work--as nothing pressing was currently at hand, but her mind was also muttering other things.

"Oi!" His voice startled her from her thoughts. She shook her head and fought to ignore him, quickening her pace.

"Elizabeth!" he called again; his speed was a match for hers, and soon he was nearly at her side.

Barbossa watched from his post, rolling a coil around his hand and elbow. He entertained the thought of tripping the underclad captain, but decided against it, not wishing to incur his wrath so early in the day.

"Love, wait!"

She cast a careless glance back at him and scoffed, shaking her head, seeing that he still only wore his breeches. "Put some clothes on; have some decency."

The crew seemed to spare a curious pondering their way, but otherwise remained loyal to their duties.

Jack reached forward and seized her wrist, holding her back. She whipped around and glared at him menacingly enough to where he released her.

"What is wrong?" was all he could think of to say.

"Nothing is _wrong_," she snapped stubbornly.

He could only stare at her, fighting to decipher her reasoning. His lips were compressed into a thin line, his brow furrowed. A portion of her didn't appreciate his study of her, that same portion wondering why she was angry with him.

"You're jealous, aren't you?" He had the nerve to say.

Or, at least, that certain portion thought he had the nerve. "_What_?" she hissed.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't understand it. You have a wonderful whelp waiting for you when we finally meet up with him again. I mean, truly: he's loyal and caring; noble, lawful… a girl like you couldn't ask for much more. Frankly, I don't know where this is coming from. We worked out our feelings." He was baiting her. She knew it. "We should be as right as--"

She slapped him.

His head snapped to the side from the surprising force of the blow. However, it wasn't as sting-happy as it could have been.

He remained still for a moment, shaking his head slightly to rid himself of the ringing in his ears. "…rain," he finished quietly, his eyes finally meeting hers again. "Did I really deserve that?"

It pained him that her eyes were glimmering with unshed tears. She was biting the inside of her lip, her jaw quivering as she shook her head, releasing an unsteady breath. She tore away from his gaze. "I hate you…" she whispered.

His carefree façade barely faltered on the outside, but inside, he was crumbling. "No, you don't," he told her. She looked back to him, her eyes red and unsure. "In fact," he stepped nearer, continuing to take a step for each phrase, "_I _think… that you are quite fond of me." He had her trapped against the wooden planks, a hand placed beside her face.

She couldn't meet his eyes. "He betrayed you," she said quietly, meaning Will.

"I know he did, but I promised you I'd take you to him, didn't I?" He tilted his head, watching her carefully. "I don't just make promises to anyone who asks, you know."

She sniffed, her jaw continuing to tremble. "I know," she whispered finally.

He remained silent, but his free hand came up to rest against her neck, his thumb brushing along her jaw. "Perhaps we haven't worked out our feelings quite yet," he mused softly.

She leaned into his touch, comforted by his presence. But she could not think of him now. And if his presence was at hand, it would defy her reasoning. She raised her eyes to meet his.

Jack felt his chest tighten at the sight of the two moist rivers that had left their mark down her cheeks.

"Please, Jack…" she said quietly, "go."

His black gaze bore into hers, calm and still. He let out a heavy sigh, his lips in that same line. He brought his hand up once more, the backs of his knuckles feathering over her skin, brushing at her tears while he fulfilled his want to be able to touch her. He thought about kissing her, and he wanted to very much, but he also knew it was not the comfort she needed right now.

Another brush at her hair, and he allowed himself to smile, if only so very faintly. "Of course, Lizzie."

And then, he drew away, his hand sliding from its rest against the planks, and he left her.

Elizabeth released a breath, shaken as she leaned heavily against the planks, watching him depart. No, she could not think of him now.

She could not think of his voice; not how he had given her her first taste of freedom--made sweeter intertwined with the taste of his lips. Nor could she think of how wonderfully the sun made his bronzy tone seem to glow, reflecting off every muscle and every shadow. She could not think of the scars, either--the scars that intrigued her and invited her into his world, invited her into the legend and begged her to accept such a life. And she could most certainly not think to remember the look in his eyes when she had asked him to leave.

Tia sat quietly, unmoved, in the bed; the covers were still wrapped comfortably around her form. She heard the gentle creak of wood and looked up as the captain entered, looking broken.

He did not look at her as he moved over to his desk and quietly pulled on his boots, followed by a brief search for his shirt, before donning that. He didn't even bother with his vest, only his effects, and then his coat.

He stood over his desk, his hands resting on his hat while his fingers played absentmindedly with the leather stitching. "We'll be making port in hour," he said quietly, his head bowed.

She nodded, staring at the bed sheets. "Yes."

Silence again. But only for a moment.

"I'll be at the helm," he said, turning his head to finally meet her eyes, "if you need me."

She nodded, and watched as he left, his head hung low and his steps unenthusiastic.

It was a dangerous thing, what she had gotten herself into. She thought she could still see him even after the door was closed. Such an act seemed to signify the closing of something more inside her.

Sparrow was such a magnificent creature. Free. Untouched by the corruptions of man. He was wild and untamable like the sea itself.

And forever would he hold a place in her heart.

The devil would hate him for that.

**Love it? Hate it? Lemme know! Thanx in advance for reviews!**


	3. A Ship for a Ship

**Author's Note: This bit falls in kin with the last installment. This is what Jack was thinking of right before Tia put her hand on his shoulder. **

**Pairings: J/BP**

**Warnings: SPOILERS! And very mild language.**

**Disclaimer: Would that I did own them all. Especially Captain Sparrow. For his sake, it is good that I do not. :D**

.A Ship for a Ship.

The _Black Pearl _gently rocked back and forth in a lulling motion, still in the calm waters. It was mid-afternoon, the crew set to their tasks relatively quietly. Warming sunshine encompassed a great portion of the captain's cabin, its entrance permitted by the plated windows. Such things had been replaced and refurbished from past attacks due to phantom ships and mythical sea beasts.

A quiet moan elicited from a secluded corner where the sun's rays just barely touched. Captain Jack Sparrow sat up, stretching like a cat and emitting a silent yawn. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his hands over his face, forcing the sleep out of himself. It had been some time since he'd awoken at such an hour.

After another brief yawn, his dark bare eyes, which were normally lined in kohl, casually surveyed the room in search of his shirt.

Following a fleeting hunt, he gave up and took to admiring his dark lady ship. A loving smile ghosted over his lips. They truly were of one soul. He began to recount their moments together, and his smile faded as he recalled how she came to be.

He remembered the fire; the great roaring flames that had begun to devour his freedom.

The _Wicked Wench_ was helpless, trapped in the still waters as the blaze licked into her rigging with chaotic shrieks, as if the ship herself was in terrible pain. He could only watch from shore, bound in irons while several men held him back. He was beaten and shattered, but such things hadn't squelched his attempts to save her.

He remembered the searing heat of the lettered iron meeting with his flesh.

Jack absentmindedly massaged his branded forearm.

He remembered the smug face of one Cutler Beckett. He remembered swearing that that man would pay. Beckett would pay. And he would pay dearly.

Jack would enjoy ending his life. Such thoughts were usually absent in the captain's way of living; he was more of a negotiating man before blood would be shed. But Lord--yes, Lord, now--Cutler Beckett was one of the ready exceptions. Jack Sparrow would smile upon his dead corpse, and he would turn back time just so he could do it again.

There were very few men like this in his life, another example being that of Hector Barbossa.

Jack sneered, knowing that the slinky bastard was somewhere on his ship, right now. Jack's blood boiled.

_Forced into an alliance with one's greatest enemy. _

Jack inwardly cursed. If it wasn't for the Brethren, he would have already indulged in killing the mutinous wretch a second time. However, there was always time after his use was no longer needed.

But again, back to that previous thorn in his side. He never did like Beckett. Even while he was working for him, he felt haunted whenever they spoke. The man was a present evil, dealing in currency rather than loyalty. He was a perfect match; for a corrupted world, there was the corrupted man.

His lies and serpent-like ways had almost swayed his own mind, Jack reflected.

But Elizabeth had been right, the brazen spitfire. He was a good man at heart. Bloody inconvenient, is what it was.

It had been just another transfer. A pick-up, if you will. He'd been given instructions to retrieve valuable cargo, his heading leading him to the coast of Africa.

Knowing Beckett, and knowing his own salary, it had seemed like an impressive deal that was presented to him. He and his men would be allowed to dock, thereafter being devoid of their current duties while they ran off and drank, traded, and indulged in other activities, while an already harbored collection of Beckett's men would load the cargo and break their own backs for them.

A handsome invitation, to be certain; as well as considering the pay raise.

But Jack didn't like it.

Something was unusual about the situation, but… too many factors had caused him to look the other way.

He remembered returning to his ship, his men content and well-entertained. He shared words with the foreman before proper send-offs were exchanged. Then, he had been sent on his way with a new heading for the New World.

Later that night, Jack remembered being unable to sleep. He'd went below, in search of a bottle or two, lantern in hand. He'd expected to be sidestepping crates and additional cargo, but was puzzled when nothing seemed to be out of place from before--nothing new or supplementary.

The rattle of chains had startled him, as well as the whimper that followed it.

Before him, under the lamplight, dark faces watched him in fear, young ones huddled against their parents; wives against their husbands. Black eyes were terrified; tears filled many of them.

The captain of the _Wicked Wench_ nearly dropped the lantern, which would have initiated what was soon to come. A tight force clenched inside his chest at the heartrending sight. What had he nearly done to these people?

He remembered pounding back up the steps, shouting out orders to turn the ship about, no questions asked about the debatable hour or their captain's seemingly sudden lack of sanity.

Beckett's men had been waiting.

Treason was the crime they were charged with. Many of Jack's men were slain before his eyes, as well as good friends. He would be saved for last, he knew. Saved until the slave trader himself could arrive and decide what to do with him.

Beckett had accused him of lacking the ability to accept change. Being blind to progress. Having too much of a conscience for a business that hadn't a use for one. He claimed it pained him dearly to loose such a formidable business partner. However, it seemed he had always known what would happen; as if he wasn't all that surprised.

In all Jack Sparrow's existence, he never remembered using such language against the nobleman when the outcome was declared what would befall his precious ship.

He had been forced to watch as his beloved lady sank, burning, beneath the waves. Then came the branding.

Beckett's men had nearly killed him. He escaped, of course.

He vowed he would raise his pride and joy from the depths. With his own hands, if he had to. Being a fool, he pursued his proclamation. He nearly drowned himself, too. Knocking on death's door, he received salvation out of damnation.

Davey Jones came.

Jack pulled himself from his thoughts. He remembered now why he hated committing acts of charity. He was always punished for them.

His gaze returned to the planks beneath his feet. What battles he had fought for this ship. After the re-christening of the _Black Pearl_, he thought life would change for the better. And really, it did. No longer was he bound by the laws of men. No longer did he take orders from greedy noblemen who dealt in currency rather than loyalty.

However, he still had one promise to carry out.

_Lord_ Cutler Beckett would pay.

If Jack recalled, he'd heard tell of a new threat. The Englishman was toting about the name of his new pride and joy. A beauty of a ship. Sleek and prim; large-framed, but not bulky. It bore strong masts and impressive gunnery. A pretty boat named the _Endeavor. _

A feral grin devoid of humor spread on Captain Jack Sparrow's features, darkness evident in his black gaze.

Beckett would pay.

A ship for a ship.

**Like? Hate? Lemme know:P**


	4. The Commodore Pirate

**Author's Note: Okay, this vignet has no real connections with the other two. Takes place during DMC. I really do appreciate all my readers, truly. After this, I will have an author's note thanking you each personally and answering all of your questions. I just don't want an author's note after every single installment, so I'll go after every third. K:D **

**Warnings: None, really. No language, or stuff like that. There are many ill thoughts bore by Norrington towards Mr. Sparrow, but... other than that... :P **

**Pairings: N/E (he'd like it to be, poor man), and mild J/E**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! Curse ye fer breathing you feckless pack of business men! (Dear God, please don't sue me...)**

**I have no money:P**

.The Commodore Pirate.

_Slosh! _Went the wig.

James Norrington, former commodore of the British Royal Navy, commenced to polishing vigorously atop the _Black Pearl's_ main deck. His brow was drawn in resentment, his jaw set, and his cleansing scrubs far more forceful than necessity called for.

He was not alone. Three other deckhands shined up the planks beside him, but they bore a completely opposite and carefree outlook. They chuckled and jested amongst one another, and Norrington felt like a bit of an outcast. No one ever called him by his name.

It was either "former commodore", "cabin boy", or other various and scandalous phrases that he chose to ignore.

Actually, one did use his name. A lovely golden-haired beauty that was currently exchanging words with the first mate, whom he recognized as Joshamee Gibbs. He watched her sadly, his scrubbing having stopped. His eyebrows came to arch upwards into his forehead and his sea green eyes grew soft and cheerless.

Well, he supposed even Sparrow had the decency to spare him certain rude monikers. He seemed to fancy the "former commodore" line and used it often, but that was as bad as it got, Norrington recalled, getting back to his task. More importantly, getting back to not thinking about her. He considered that he was performing a rather impressive attempt. The beautiful black mahogany would shine today.

A sudden shadow came over his form, blocking out the sun, and diminishing certain view of what he was doing. He glanced up slightly to see a pair of familiar boots, their stance bold and set slightly apart. Norrington withheld a sigh.

Knowing it would only add to the torment, and not genuinely caring, Norrington raised his eyes to meet the pair of oddly kohl-lined black orbs.

"You've got to be the worst commodore I have ever seen," Sparrow mused offhandedly.

Norrington's gaze quickly molded into a glare, his lips compressing into a thin line. He debated not saying anything at all, for that would certainly snub the irritable wretch, and perhaps he would even shrug and walk away, but Norrington was tired of playing the mute.

Therefore, he called Sparrow a name that made the pirate blink.

Other than that, to his annoyance, the pirate captain looked mock offended. He clutched both of his hands to his chest as if in pain. "James, what a thing to say," he chided, his eyes wide and innocent. "I'm wounded."

Norrington shook his head and went back to his task, making sure to splash a fair amount of water on the pirate captain's boots.

Sparrow didn't seem to care. In fact, he sighed. "You are such a stick," he informed him, then it seemed he was preparing to leave him in peace. As he turned to walk away, Norrington gripped his wig tighter in his hand. "You missed a bit, former commodore," is what he threw over his shoulder.

Norrington growled in the back of his throat, snapping his head back up to glare after the pirate.

But Sparrow was gone, having forgotten his previous bout of entertainment. He had made his way over to Miss Swann, who was now leaning against the rail, looking out to sea. Gibbs had left, it seemed. On the pirate's approach, Norrington watched as Sparrow reached out and took hold of a few strands of golden locks, twirling them casually in his fingers.

Norrington wanted to punch him.

But the lovely beauty only turned to look at who had interrupted her thoughts. Upon seeing the perpetrator, she gave a tolerant shake of her head, a playful smile on her lips as she swatted him on the arm. Sparrow chuckled and draped an arm across her slender shoulders momentarily, brushing his hand over her opposite arm.

Then Gibbs returned, and the three began to exchange words.

Norrington seethed. How dare he lay a hand on her! How dare he touch her so! He clenched his teeth so tightly his jaw became sore. That bloody pirate. Touching his Miss Swann like that. Touching his…

_No, James… _he reminded himself, his head bowing sadly. _She no longer belongs to you. _

And in observing the way the young woman behaved around Sparrow, Norrington wondered just how long she would belong to William Turner.

She was too much of a free spirit. She had always bore a certain fascination with pirates. Even as a child, when she and her father joined his crew on a crossing from England… he had seen the way she'd gazed at the sea.

The life that would indeed befall her would bear no tolerance for such childish fantasies. Norrington felt his heart reach out to her, wondering just what poor Miss Swann was getting herself into. And what she may soon struggle to get herself out of.

Norrington removed his gaze from his work and looked back to the trio speaking on deck. The distance between Elizabeth Swann and Jack Sparrow was not so distant to be considered casual. In fact, their shoulders almost seemed to touch. Norrington shook his head to clear it, knowing that now he was truly being irrational, his mind playing tricks on him.

But still… a curious thing, it was.

_Slosh!_ went the wig yet again, and he set back to his task. He needed a drink, he thought. He'd forgotten what it was like to be sober, and with it, he'd forgotten the consequence of thought. He despised thinking. Thinking led to remembering, which led to memories, which led to pain. Memories of his old life. How he so even longed for a hot bath. He wondered if such a thing was attainable on a pirate ship.

Well, this was Jack Sparrow's ship. And the man had already proved more than once that he was not to be compared to the traditional personification of pirates. Sparrow also looked suspiciously cleaner than the life he'd led called for.

Perhaps a bath was not so out of the question. Norrington didn't altogether care about the temperature. But then again… he found that he didn't really care about anything anymore; least of all being his personal hygiene. What was the point anyway?

And then, just so suddenly as he'd been mulling over his losses, the former commodore found salvation in the least likely of people.

"Full pardon. Commission as a privateer on behalf of England, and the East India Trading Company…" Sparrow read aloud.

**Love it? Hate it? LEMME KNOW!**


	5. Author's Note 2

**Author's Note!**

I know, I know… you all LURVE author's notes. :P

I'm sorry I haven't updated for a while, I just finished moving myself and life has been crappy. Never fear, tho! Many more are to come. At least 3 more are already done, and I have ideas for plenty more than that.

But, now onto the personal thanks!

**Thomthom830**: Thanks for the review, mate!

**Elendor**: I know! Tia Dalma is rather cool, I think. I like Naomi Harris, the lovely lady who portrays her, as well.

**JeanieBeanie33**: I love Jack/Liz, but I'm not 4 square against Will/Liz. I think what the writers have done, though, is set it up perfectly that Jack and Miss Swann belong together. It would be a shame for them to go the other way, but… I'm just a lonely fangirl, and they will do what they want, unfortunately. I don't expect my ending. is sad (Unless they changed the script for #3 and completely shock me! I would love them forever!)(Let's hope! It was only the first draft!)

Dear God! I would hope Tia isn't related to Jones! That would make for a weird situation that only happens in Greece and the South! (don't hate me, I meant no offense to Greece or the South!) No, Tia is the lovely lady of the devil (yes, by Devil, I meant Jones ;D). Calypso, she be. :D Oh, thank you! I try very hard to keep them all in perfect character.

**Sk8terbabz**: Thank you very much! I love it when I get reviews! Keeps me going! (HINT HINT:P)

Alright, I'll shut my yap and get on with the vignettes!


	6. Musings of a Lord

**Author's Note: YEEYAYUH! SAY WHUT! **

**The CLASS. HAS. ARRIVED.**

**Yes, Mr. Lord Butter Packett Fatsquat gets his own vignette! He is pleased and content. I must say, I find myself in a love/hate relationship with this little imp. And I mean little in every sense of the word. He's even shorter than Miss Swann, if you hadn't noticed. I love to hate him. He's such a nasty little thing, but he is a superb bad guy, in my humble opinion. I like Tom Hollander, personally. I like his eyes, too. Very... clear. Contrasts nicely with his dark hair. Dear God, I sound like a TH fangirl! No, Mr. Depp is my one and only. I stand firm on that account. **

**Warnings: Duhhhhh... dun think so... ? No, nothing above PG, even, I don't think. Odd. **

**Pairings: Beckett/Himself (get yer mind out of the gutter), I've also noticed he seemed rather intimate with that little box of his...**

**Disclaimer: Didn't own 'em before. Still don't. More's the pity. **

**Here we are then! Of Beckett Bashings! (no, j/k. that saying isn't even mine. different story. funny, too.)**

.Musings of a Lord.

The flicker of candlelight seemed to grow in obvious degree as the daylight hours were slowly ebbing away. The gulls had grown quiet, the soothing lapping of the waves barely discerned on the outside world; the docks were silent. In the small office, there was only the source of waxen wicks of gentle flames, as well as a fading hearth.

A dark silhouette moved across the room, being the figure of a man. His clothing was neatly tailored to fit him proper, his vest even more gold-flecked in the golden glow of the fire.

Lord Cutler Beckett ran his palm over the top of his safebox which was branded with the familiar insignia on its timber flesh. He'd caressed it as one might a lover. However, his pale and cold eyes did not reflect any sort of compassion, but rather avarice and a hungering lust for power.

It was no longer greed. It had become a way of life; an accepted fate.

A small and fleeting smirk ghosted across his lips, his pale flesh a golden cherry under the light.

His eyes traveled back to the Heart, still safely concealed in that leather rucksack atop his desk. He had yet to touch it. He didn't believe he was afraid to, but rather he thought that his eyes may have only deceived him. Or perhaps that former commodore had only played a cruel and intolerable joke on him.

He ruled out the latter. James Norrington was far too concerned with the regaining of his previous rank and life to engage in such acts of foolery. The tall brooding fellow happened to also mention something about Sparrow in connection with the Heart.

Beckett wondered what sort of connection the pirate bore towards these circumstances. One thing, however, was certain… if Sparrow wanted said Heart, Sparrow would not rest until he'd obtained the organ in question.

Beckett was no fool. He knew he would be seeing Captain Jack Sparrow again. Without his knowledge, he suddenly realized that he was holding his fireplace stoker in his grasp, admiring the smoldering **P** while the alluring glow reflected in his pondering eyes.

Yes, he and Sparrow would meet again.

While Cutler Beckett was not in favor of ghastly duels or barbaric showdowns, he did look forward to inflicting any manner of pain on his former delivery boy. People were abducted rather recurrently nowadays, more's the pity. And then they were found soon after to be nearly dead or just as so, robbed, beaten… worst of all--tortured, the poor souls.

A sinful smirk played on the features of the East India Company's leader. Somehow, he seemed to foresee a remarkably similar fate befalling Captain Jack Sparrow. Worst of all… it would be such a shame for the pirate captain to loose his dark lady ship once again. To witness her in all her magnificent glory, sinking into the depths yet again would surely break him.

Teeth glimmered in the low light, the tongues of flame suddenly picking up in the darkness, casting frightening shadows on the surrounding walls.

Beckett glanced at the empowering map on the far wall, the wicked gleam never abandoning his steeled gaze. He wouldn't give the pirate a chance to make it to the New World.

Beckett suddenly drew the sword that rested at his hip, more for decoration than anything. The blade came to life with a metallic song in the stillness, finely polished so that the Lord could admire his own reflection. "We shall meet again, _Captain Jack Sparrow_," he mused, every word seeming to bare its own significance. He swung the weapon once, delighting in the patterns of light it cast within the room. He was already feeling triumphant.

With a satisfied smirk, he sheathed it once more, receiving an agreeable _snik_ in response. "I shall cut off your wings."

**Good? No? **

**"Do you need time alone with yer thoughts-uh?" (Never fear, Davey is coming!) Lemme know!**

**Oh, BTW, JeanieBeanie, I forgot to say that: Yes. Jack does destroy the Endeavor. Quite the stunt, too, I might add. Good Lord, that man is going to get himself killed one day. ... ... To where he stays killed. **

**But, yep. A cannon is his weapon of choice. Though he can't seem to decided whether to point it at the mast, the deck, or Beckett. ;P Did I also mention that he is aboard said ship at the time? He's turning into a bit of an Erroyl Flynn, methinks, despite his best efforts. **

**L8er!**


	7. Fragile

Author's Note: Hey y'all. Thanks for being patient with me. Or at least SOME of you are... :P

J/k, I love you all. Cyber hugs! I know, I know, get on with the thing, right:D This one here will coincide with the one that follows. This one also kind of falls in line with "Two Hearts". This one and the next are rather serious and glum, but I promise I'll write you all a funny one! ---And then there will be more sad ones. Geez, I'm depressing.

Warnings: If you don't like the sight of blood, read with your eyes closed.

Pairings: J/T

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Jack Sparrow, I wish I owned Jack Sparrow, I wish I owned Jack Sparrow... nope. Didn't work. All yours, Mickey, you selfish little rat.

(Oh, and the intro thing is not all my wording. I improvised and paraphrased a bit, but I got it from... -very large grin- ... I'll never te-eh-elllllllll...)

.Fragile.

_There was a time when the seas were unpredictable, angry. An ancient and beautiful goddess fell in love with a sailor, and granted him immortality. Also a ship, to rescue the souls of drowned sailors. But fickle, like the sea, she fell easily out of love, and left him. The man, in despair, cut his heart from his body, and locked it away in a chest, away from the world, having no more use for it. _

_When the deed had been done, the goddess was angry, and the seas stormed for many years. Many good men died, along with their families and comrades. So the Pirate Brethren came together and took counsel. The Brethren summoned the goddess and tricked her, casting a spell that trapped her in human form, meant to suffer humanity for eternity until One should seek to release her. _

_With Calypso tamed, the seas were tamed. And so began the Age of Piracy. _

The air was tense. Enough to where a cannon shot would do little to penetrate the opaque stone quality. Four bodies occupied the room. A first mate, a governor's daughter, a voodoo priestess, and a pirate captain.

The latter was not a man whom anyone sought to converse with, nor to be in the general close range vicinity of. They were all cross, but Sparrow was furious. He appeared so uncharacteristically chaotic that everyone else had seemed to shy towards the other side of the room. Even so, every human had his or her own breaking point, and it looked as if he had reached his with a flourish.

However, the gypsy woman remained gently fearless of him and only sat a short distance away.

He was pacing, brow drawn below his trademark headscarf. His eyes were guarded with steel and he held a rum bottle in one hand. His coat only added to his height and the tails barely flapped in his wake.

His anger was not determined, though, by shouts or the slamming of doors. Jack Sparrow was stone-cold silent. And he hadn't touched a spot of rum. Elizabeth sat in an uncomfortable chair near his desk in the captain's cabin. Her knees were drawn up to her chin while her arms hugged them to her chest. Her eyes followed his movements through the maze of golden tresses that hung in her eyes and framed her features.

Joshamee Gibbs stood quietly with his arms folded across his chest, staring out the nearby window. His thick eyebrows were drawn and giving him a troubled frown.

Tia Dalma remained stoic, her chin raised slightly, calm and serene. She, too, resided in a slightly more comfortable seat, her hands resting lightly on her lap.

The sudden lack of pacing made them all wake slightly from their reveries. Sparrow had stilled in front of a side table, his hands pressed into the oak, while one hand still held the rum bottle by the throat. His head hung, black locks guarding his eyes in a secluded hollow. "How much time do we have?"

His voice broke the silence sounding mildly hoarse. Tia could sense that, even though his tone was quiet and calm, beneath their was a fracture. She could only commend him for his restraint. Without altering her steady gaze from a distant point, she replied. "Time slips. Only hours. De situation is out of your hands, Jack Sparrow. De Brethren will perish."

His grip tightened on the glass. "My father has entrusted their fate to me. I may just as well be killing them myself." The fracture was mounting.

"Some will escape. But deir hearts follow de war. Dey will fight."

"I spilled blood to safeguard their haven and survival; all my life. Two nights ago I swore to a second oath that I would carry out their bidding so they would not have to." His control was escaping, his voice raising only slightly.

"To kill the devil, you will need more dan a pirate's pledge." There was subtle venom in her words and hidden reference, and it did not go unnoticed by the captain.

Control clawed at freedom with violent aggression and shot out the window with disdain.

Sparrow lost all manner of stillness and spun, driving the bottle against the planks of the wall. The shattering of glass became an explosion of sharp reverberation that carried throughout the small confines of the room, dancing off the walls with angry malice.

Elizabeth jerked in her chair, startled, and Joshamee's eyes flew to his captain. The gypsy merely cast her eyes towards him, otherwise remaining in her previous position.

Heavy shards rained upon the decking and amber liquid now ran down the walls in steady streams, baring a recognizable tint of red. Sparrow had stilled again, and now looked at his hand which he held near waist level. The blood had seemed to calm him, and it appeared to have steadied his stressful nerves and return him back to truth. He splayed his fingers slightly, studying the shards in his flesh soberly.

The alcohol made the abrasions burn with fire, but he did not so much as wince. He only stared at what he had done.

Elizabeth hugged herself tighter, and Gibbs released a slow breath in somber deliberation. Tia Dalma watched the man before her with tender thought, thereupon closing her eyes and accepting the upcoming task with equal warmth.

Later, after all but two had departed from the cabin, a man and a woman sat alone at the table. It may have appeared that they were holding hands, but such was not the case. White cotton wraps rested nearby on the tabletop, as well as a new bottle of rum and a clean rag.

"Ouch," Sparrow complained softly, almost to himself, as Tia carefully removed another shard from his injured hand. He watched quietly as she set the glass off to the side with the other detached fragments.

"It hurts, I know," she spoke to him gently, not taking her concentration from her work. She did not remind him how he could have prevented the pain himself. There was no need to state such obvious matters where he was suffering.

He did not take to responsibility often, but now he carried more than his own share on his shoulders, with no one to aid him.

Only her.

But she could do nothing for him in such a state. This had been the reason of her words before. The Brethren feared her. And Sparrow had been torn between duty and a promise.

He did not flinch as she touched the rum-soaked rag to his palm. She worked as gently as she could, also taking the opportunity to have her touch on his skin. As she finished, she hesitated to admire his hand, one of her own holding his slightly while her other took time in gently tracing fingers over the recent incisions.

"You break so easily," she mused, her voice distant and saddened.

He said nothing, but his eyes looked to her thoughtfully. A smile graced her lips and she reached for the white cotton, gently smoothing it over his skin and beginning to wrap it around his hand.

"You must learn to quell your anger," she chided him almost playfully, succeeding in lightening the mood as she noticed the smile briefly on Sparrow's lips.

"I wasn't entirely aware that I had anger complications," he replied with light jesting.

Tia's eyes met his and she grinned before getting back to her task. "Only when you be angry."

A short laugh escaped him and he was relieved that she had attempted to make him smile. "Is not every man entitled to be human, love?"

She paused only for a short moment in her work, her eyes falling downcast. She felt a sinking in her chest as she struggled within. "Yes," she whispered finally.

His smile faded as he realized that she was not replying to his question, but rather to the hidden connotation within it.

Tia Dalma was impressive in regaining her graceful composure. She tied off a small knot in the fabric and gently patted the back of his hand, insinuating that she was finished.

Sparrow took a moment to inspect her handiwork before he grinned, hoping to aid her in the same way she had for him just moments before. "Much more better," he commented, then stuck up his chin slightly in an air of nobility. "Nothing would I be without thine Queen of Sea."

Her eyes sought his own, and she hoped he would realize the gravity behind her following words. "Only question remains, Jack Sparrow… will ye choose to be my king?"

He did not disappoint her. He seemed to deliberate over her words and bowed his head. He released a breath and played with the bandages on his hand in thought. "It remains yet to be seen," he replied quietly.

She fought with herself not to become frustrated with him. She touched her hand to his and he returned his attention to her. "You cannot face him as you are," she told him, her voice grave and forbidding. "You are too easily vulnerable. You may walk the line of myth, Jack Sparrow, but being a legend does not deny de blade from entering your heart." She hated to snap at him, but she could also not let him go and get himself killed out of stubborn pride and a sweltering ego.

He did not remove his gaze from her own, but rather watched her with contemplation.

Tia was not sure what she thought of the sudden look in his eyes. She couldn't recall such a look on Sparrow's face prior to the present moment. She was about to speak when he interrupted her thoughts.

"Perhaps it already has."

His muse startled her. She loathed being caught with her guards down. And she, at times previous, had always refused to tolerate being staggered. She was who all came to seek in times of peril. She held all journey's answers in the palm of her hand. So why was Jack Sparrow able to render her at such an inferior state with a simple sentence? She blamed her untrue nature. The humanity in her was what was surely causing her abilities to fail her.

It was the rarity of his being. It was the only possible motive she could dwell on. That free spirit that rapt her just as she had him. It was a never-ending battle between them, ever since one laid eyes on the other.

Suddenly then, it came to her. She knew the look in his eyes. It had been the one that the aforementioned nature of her had been secretly hoping for. A selfish longing and need of fulfillment, traits she'd inherited from her previous temperment. And yet, she didn't understand. Her enchanting hold was not presently calling to him. She was only herself.

Unless…

Could it be? Had he truly…? Tia, not the caged spirit, felt a sudden warmth well up inside her and it felt suspiciously like joy. Or, at least, what she had been told about such a feeling.

He had eased forward slightly in his seat, unsure of what he was to do. There was a moment of quiet stillness, and then the darker nature of the gypsy woman grew impatient. Her eyes encouraged him, eager.

He was hesitant at first, almost leery of the consequences. She would ease his mind. She would call to him.

Gently, she reached out to him, her fingers brushing tenderly at the side of his cheek, then coming to trace his jaw. Her black eyes seemed to take on a subtle shine, golden light reflecting off the pure orbs, caused by the low candlelight in the room. The act was rewarded with almost immediate results.

In a manner of moments, his lips came to meet hers. She could hear the breath catch in his throat, and she felt her own heart flutter within her chest. The embrace was slow and gentle at first, gradually becoming deeper as his lips parted beneath hers. She felt her superior side taking over, exploring and tasting him. She felt his hand come to wrap around the back of her neck, bringing her closer to him yet. She heard him sigh almost sadly in the back of his throat and she touched his injured hand on the table, willing it to heal.

She would teach him how to truly soar in due time. She would make certain he would live on for eternity; his name passed on and remembered by all who existed. She'd known him since he was barely an adolescent, and she'd been forced to watch him age over the years. He'd grown into a fine man, but freedom did not age, and so he had earned the rewards to come.

She reveled in the moment, knowing such time was limited.

He would accept her gifts and brave her fury. He would release her as he'd promised. She begged Fate to allow her to still love him in her post-release, to hold some manner of desire and warmth towards the man beside her. She knew she would lose a part of her heart that sought him, but she refused to lose every morsel. She would not forget him. But again, she lived the moment at hand, running her hands under his shirt, feeling his skin beneath and the many scars that riddled him. She would wipe them away. Old wounds were for mortals.

Humanity was a dangerous thing. Before, in her rage, she had refused to accept her fate. One man had changed the heart of a siren who was really a monster. In her imprisonment, he was her escape.

Freedom.

Because, really... that was all that it came down to in the end. The pirates would die before surrender, they would unite and battle those who meant their demise and captivity. A sparrow would brave the storm before seeking shelter indoors.

The gale of their time was just on the horizon.

It was a finality for them both, because soon, they would be equally of higher power. And in this moment, with his lips on hers, his hands on her, loving, she was just as fragile as he.

Please let me know if the ending sucked. I rewrote it, like, 9011 times. I still don't think I did a satisfactory job, but I'll leave it up to you. And I don't mean the last line, but the "ending". You know you want to press that little review button...

DOOOO IIIIIIIIIIIT...


	8. To Reign in Fire

**AN: No reviews on the last one? -pouts- Ah well... here ya go. This one falls in line with "Fragile". **

**Warnings: SPOILERS for AWE!**

**Pairings: None**

**Disclaimer: If I really owned them, you would know. **

.To Reign in Fire.

_ ...the Brethren summoned the goddess and tricked her, casting a spell that trapped her in human form, meant to suffer humanity for eternity until One should seek to release her..._

The world was crashing down around them. Explosions of heat and shrapnel made the area a field of peril--for what was only a secluded room in actuality.

Joshamee Gibbs shielded his eyes, cursing as another spout of flames licked violently at the air near the fivesome. He, Cotton, Marty, and Miss Swann were fighting to put out the fire that had been started not moments ago, and already it had grown into a sweltering blaze that threatened to devour them whole.

Only one of them did not attempt to spare the cabin they had become trapped within.

Captain Sparrow remained still in the center of the room, his black eyes fixed on an unknown place. He kept silent as the others panicked. His somber attention transferred to the girl.

Elizabeth was her own entity, battling alongside fellow comrades. She was frightened, he could tell by the shaking of her hands as she worked. But she was acting on instinct--doing what she had to do in order to survive. Just as he had seen her with the rifle before, as the kraken had been destroying his ship. Terrified, but strong.

She was doing what she had to.

Just as he had to do, once again.

Slowly, he turned his gaze to the window, and watched the storm developing outside. A gale wind whipped, the Caribbean waters beginning to churn and froth. _She _was preparing her strike. Her fury welled like a volcano before eruption. He had released Her. And he bore no regrets. Conceivably, he would be rebuked for it, but he was granted a gift of his own in return. She had not forgotten his devotion.

Perhaps it would be enough.

He looked down at his hands, which were palm-face up. As if studying his own strength, he drew them into fists, looking ahead. He steadied his breathing, his heartbeat slowly easing and becoming calm.

"Elizabeth?"

Her attention was snagged and she whirled from her task to grant him her undivided. Their eyes met, and with it: an understanding.

Jack Sparrow was preparing to give them a tale to sing about.

"Take the window. Swim to the adjacent vessel. Do it. Now. All of you," he commanded. This was not Jack. This was Captain Sparrow.

The others began to move, taking advantage of the opportunity and obeying their superior and friend, but her eyes remained set against his own. Hers were apprehensive for his safety, but they were also determined. She gave him a brusque nod.

As soon as they were gone, he wasted no time.

The sky cried and wailed, black clouds devouring all manner of light. The cabin door roared open, flames sprouting like tongues of flame from within. Through them, Jack Sparrow stepped, the tails of his dark coat carrying with the wind. Trinkets jingled, barely heard over the mounting storm. Black locks whipped across his eyes, eyes that were changed by the supernatural so subtlety, that only another immortal could sense the change.

Davey Jones knew, from the moment he turned to behold the magnificent entrance of the smaller captain. Suddenly, he did not seem so small. Jones frowned. The laughter of the Dutchman's captain died away, his men's just as so. Those who had started the fire had only kindled another's rage.

Thunder clapped and rain came now in sheets. The rigging stretched and jerked against the strain, the sails flapping violently. Lighting lit up the darkness that was only hindered by the glow of the fire.

Two legends faced off.

The Dutchman's crew shied back, looking from their captain to the pirate. Jones set his jaw, filled with madness and anticipation. If his heart was not at leave, it would be pounding within his chest like a caged beast. He despised the man before him. He sought to tear him limb from limb. This would not be a fight… this was to be an execution. Brutal and vile. Feral in every sense of the meaning.

Jones took one step forward, his peg crab leg thudding against the deck with a hollow echo. His right slimy appendage lowered and gripped the hilt of his much unused broadsword. He could not recall the last time he'd used it. He had no need for it. Only in special cases was it called upon. Opportunities that included men like Sparrow: defiant until the end. However, the crusted and barnacled blade was still stained as he drew it from his sheathe; stained by the blood of his previous challenge.

A malevolent smirk graced his mutated features and his pinscher hand came forward in beckoning, snapping and taunting.

Rain continued to pour, hissing loudly as it began to simmer the fire that traveled from the cabin, but it did nothing to quell the metaphorical flames that had only just begun to burn.

Only one would prevail in this battle of the titans. Through the storm and fire, only one would reign.

Jack Sparrow would take on the devil, with the Sea at his back. The Sea whom had turned on Her previous master and lover. She was now as one with another.

A kohl-lined pair of eyes matched the glare of the monster before him. The erupting waves that splashed over the deck and the rough waters seemed to only fuel his might. The worse it became, the stronger did he become. He fed off the chaos like an elixir.

With a dark flourish, he drew the two blades at his side, their metallic whispers lost in the annihilation.

**Do you like? Lemme know! I will only update after I receive at least 3 reviews! (I'll probably cave, though, pushover that I am :D)**

**Oh, and please don't think of Jack OOC in this one. He's accepting duty is all. He is a jokester, but even the supposed "fool" must face responsibility in due time. Such as when he took on the beastie at the end of DMC. Same heroic mannerism, different beastie is all. The next inst****allment will have the goofball back, I promise. **


	9. Author's Note 3

**Author's Note: **Oh goody, another AN, eh? Don't get too overjoyed now. ;P

I'm so happy I'm getting all this feedback! Wowzers! Thanks so much!

BTW, apologies, but I forgot to put a mild spoiler warning on "Fragile". Sorry! (Not that I thought you would mind :P) This time around, I'll give a little personal thanks, a little preview for next installments and what not.

Here ya go!

**WithinUtopia: **Thank you very much! Tia is a difficult character to nail. I'm glad that I've come even a smidgen close and have not completely shot her OOC. :D

**Sk8erbabz: **To me, it doesn't seem like Jack gets angry a lot, you're right. But he is only human. I've been reading the Jack Sparrow books and there are instances where he even becomes furious. He's more than ready to kill, and all that. I've tried to pay attention mostly to what the writer's have to say. Yes, he is a trickster and a clown, but that is partly only a front he puts up. Beneath, he is very clever and very dangerous. Thanks for the reviews, too:D

**Amber: **Thanks for the review! I hope I'm keeping up with the updating quick enough and not making you all wait! I personally hate it when I'm reading a story I really enjoy, but it's only updated every three months or something. XP

**Random zinthos: **Thanks very much! I'm glad you like these more serious ones, too! I love the characters so much and I try to show all the different sides of them.

**Maccajack1428: **Lol! Keeping me on my toes! Thanks!

**JeanieBeanie33: **I too love the way Jack manipulates people! I would say he enjoys seeing their faces. :P He is a show-off, too. Silly captain. Did it really give you shivers? Oh, good! I tried very much to keep it at a dark and suspenseful tone. I don't know that I can write the actual battle. It seems to me that I would just ruin it, or it wouldn't be good enough. I'll give it a shot, though! I'll spend some time on it and make it good, don't worry! I will try my best!

**Cap'n Jack: **Oh, thank you so much! It is an honor to have you say that! (hugs!) There are so many good fics around here! Thank you!

The next one will be funny, as promised. Or I hope it's funny. I think I'm better at writing the dark fics, but you be the judge.

I'm off, then!

You can probably expect the next update tomorrow.


	10. The Prankster Sparrow

**Author's Note: I promised it wouldn't be too long! I also promised that the misery and dark writing would be taking time off. I was in an exceptionally good mood, and thus said aforementioned vignette was created. Do enjoy. **

**Warnings: Nothing much. Very mild language. Nothing offensive by any means, IMO. **

**Pairing: Very mild J/E. Hinted at, more than anything. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jack Sparrow, more's the pity. I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, shame that. But I do own a very lovely beagle that I love very much. :D **

.The Prankster Sparrow.

The _Black Pearl _was a site to many an unusual goings on. A curse, a reunion, a resurrection—two, in fact, the bane of the Royal Navy's existence, that one occurrence that involved twelve loose chickens and two-and-a-half barrels of rum, and many other questionable, as well as outrageous, events. Today was no different, and it was waging competition with the poultry mishap.

On this day, laughter was carrying out across the deck quite loudly and quite obnoxiously, dancing amongst the rigging and floating out across the waves. The sun was barely up, and already there was mayhem.

Mayhem in the form of a certain pirate captain. For the hysterical howls of laughter were coming from Jack Sparrow.

He fled from the hold, trinkets jingling merrily as a human roar echoed from behind him. He threw a glance over his shoulder to see if his quarry-turned-destroyer had gained any ground on him. His brief lack of attention and the speed of his gait caused him to roughly collide with another body before he and the other person went falling to the deck.

Elizabeth Swann stifled a disgruntled gasp at the sudden sight and weight of the pirate on top of her. Sparrow was just as dazed as she, but a moment later his trademark smirk brightened the confusion.

His eyes twinkled mischievously. "Pardon me, love."

To his surprise, she did not immediately demand his relocation. Instead, she huffed and chided him good-naturedly with her eyes. "Dare I inquire as to what wicked behavior you are indulging yourself with so early in the morning?"

He grinned, looking off to the side. "Parlor tricks," he confessed. "General mischief. Personal amusement towards the discomfort of others…"

"Speaking of discomfort…" Elizabeth began, shifting herself beneath him.

His eyes returned to hers, his grin broadening. "Oh, I am quite comfortable, thank you." He bobbed his eyebrows playfully.

She huffed a laugh. "Jack," she prodded, pushing slightly on his shoulders. He chuckled and hefted himself up, offering her a hand in assistance, to which she accepted.

The sound of boots pounding up the steps caught Sparrow's attention more than it did Elizabeth. With a cry of comic dread, he dove behind her for safety and used her as a shield.

"Jack, what are you—"

But just as suddenly as he had seized her, his hold released itself and he erupted into a fit of laughter once again, collapsing to the deck and clutching his middle.

James Norrington was not amused.

Elizabeth came to notice this along with other recent and troubling blemishes on his person.

His simple canvas shirt was caked in oil, his hands black and his profile a darkened smear. Norrington's hindered face was a thundercloud, his clear green eyes adding stark contrast to the blackness. They looked like furious green sparks.

For the rage and carnage he was envisioned for, however, Sparrow only continued to laugh.

The hoax was as simple as a bucket of oil hung overhead, kept steady only by a single twine that was disturbed by the swinging of the hammock it loomed over during the victim's morning rise. The oil would spill from the tipped bucket. The victim would be submitted to the sudden wetness, dazed in their awakening, and seek to relieve themselves of it. Their hands would wipe at their face and chest, with palms that had previously been smeared with kohl. Both substances used in said hoax were equally difficult to remove from flesh and clothing.

In was ingenious, of course. Or, at least, Jack Sparrow thought so. He'd thought of it himself.

"Former commodore," Jack said between snickers, "what has _happened_ to you're already horrifying face?"

Elizabeth glanced between the two of them, arching an eyebrow in the pirate's direction. "Are you responsible for…" she looked at the former naval officer with uncertainty, "for this?"

"Who else?" Norrington queried flatly, not removing his glare from him.

Sparrow's laughter had since died down, but his reply was only a snort.

Elizabeth withheld her own smile, hiding it behind her hand. She didn't think it went entirely unnoticed by Norrington.

"Do you find this amusing, Sparrow?" he ticked off menacingly in his monotonous droll.

Jack smiled sweetly, sitting up and attempting to illustrate his point with two index fingers. "In fact," before he could finish, a glop of oil and kohl dripped from the former commodore's face and landed with a squelch on the deck.

The laughter began again.

Norrington's undeviating frown deepened.

"I recommend you treat yourself to a dip off the starboard bow," Sparrow suggested, tears filming over his eyes. "You're dripping all over my deck. You know who's going to be cleaning that up, don't you, swabbie?" After that, Sparrow only laughed harder.

James Norrington smiled, tilting his head and observing the captain writhing on the deck.

Suddenly, Elizabeth was overcome with a feeling that Jack Sparrow should rise and make for it.

"Well," Norrington shook his head, still smiling as oil clung to his dirty brown locks. "I'm delighted that you're enjoying yourself…" as he continued to speak, his eyes became dark and his tone slowly lowered and became a growl, "because I predict you will not be laughing when you're skinned and hung for sale at the nearest market we come across!"

The laughter died.

Norrington charged.

Jack yelped and scrambled to his feet, trying to dash to the side of Elizabeth. Norrington was there to meet him, and so Jack dashed the other way, making it a dizzying fit of chase with Elizabeth stuck in the middle.

"Stop it!" she cried, spinning around and trying to calm the raging monster that was James Norrington and reprimand the immature child that was Jack Sparrow. "Enough! Both of you!"

"Stop protecting him!" Norrington snarled, trying to reach around her.

"I'm not!" Elizabeth hissed, trying to pry Jack's hands from her. "Jack!"

"Save me!"

"Not this time, she won't!" Norrington fumed, trying to grab at him.

"James!"

"Elizabeth, I request your departure at this time," the former commodore went on.

Jack released Elizabeth and made a dash for the mizzenmast. Norrington growled and gave chase.

Jack ran, screaming like a fool as he thereupon leapt at the mast, beginning to ascend up the steel notches nailed into the wood. He let out a strangled yelp as he felt Norrington seize the back of his coat collar and jerk him downwards.

His grip remained fast, but he was even quicker in the shedding of his jacket. Up the mast he went, then, scurrying like a demented monkey with agile speed from years of practice.

Norrington was not so experienced in the scaling of masts, and was soon to fall behind, especially due to the sliminess of his own grasp on the notches.

Neither man seemed to hear Elizabeth's shouts of frustration. The _Black Pearl's_ crew did, however, but those that were still asleep paid little attention and merely rolled over in their undaunted slumber. The wakeful lot appeared to watch the show with mild interest.

After finally reaching the yardarm, Jack scaled along it before snatching a handful of rigging to descend a diverse path. Norrington, not by any means a fool, began to descend from his present location.

In a manner of minutes, they were side-by-side, merely a yard or two apart. "I swear on pain of death that I will trounce you with your own spyglass!" Norrington threatened and shouted, trying to make a grab for the elusive pirate.

Jack dodged his every attempt. "Yes, well tomorrow morning you can swab the deck with your tongue!" he barked back.

"Enough!" Elizabeth shouted from the deck below, flustered.

"Perhaps I will show you where to shove that damned compass of yours that is broken and doesn't work!" Norrington suggested rather rudely.

"James!" Elizabeth gasped, scandalized.

"My compass does not point _North_!" Jack cried, dodging another attack. "And you still smell funny! Commodore… Smellington!"

"That was perfectly mature of you, Jack!" Elizabeth yelled up at the two.

"Egocentric loon!" Norrington bellowed.

"Rum-pot deckhand!"

"Daft cretin!"

"Stick!"

"Sod!"

"Bugger!"

They reached the bottom at equal time, and suddenly Jack realized he was in danger. With a cry of panic he made a dash for safety—right into Elizabeth who seized his collar and held him back. He shouted again, demanding that she release him.

She ignored his complaints and focused her attention on the feral former commodore that appeared more than happy to remove Sparrow's head from his shoulders.

She placed a firm hand against Norrington's chest hand held him back in forbidding. She held Jack away at a good distance to prevent another chase or bodily harm to anyone of the two.

"Both of you! You're behaving like children!" She stared at each man menacingly with angry glares. "I have here a former Royal Navy officer and a pirate captain of the most notorious ship in the Spanish Main—"

"The world," Jack corrected.

"—in the world," Elizabeth went on. "This must be brought to an end before the two of you succeed in killing each other." She spun to look at Norrington. "You," she said, "will desist in your vengeful attempts at Jack Sparrow's life."

Jack began to protest about the lack of his title when Elizabeth whipped around and delivered him a look that would approximate a cannon landing on his head. He shut his mouth.

"Further more," Elizabeth went on, "you chose to sail under his command. It is settled, James. You've made your choice."

"Now sleep in it," Jack chimed matter-of-factly, putting his hands on his hips and sneering indignantly.

"And _you_," Elizabeth snapped, pointing a finger at him and thrusting his misplaced coat at him that she had retrieved. Sparrow shrank back like a kicked whelp, but accepted the coat. "Stop provoking him," she said a bit more gently. "You are worse than a child."

Sparrow seemed to pout, but nodded nonetheless. Norrington looked to be in a callous mood, sulking and brooding as any discharged-former-commodore-of-the-royal navy-turned-pirate would.

Elizabeth looked down and noticed that one of her hands was covered in black substances; she frowned. Sighing, she turned her attention back to the squabble at hand. "All is well, then?"

Both men gave very unenthusiastic assents. They began to go their separate ways when Sparrow turned back, looking defensive. "And my compass works just fine, I'll have you know!" He aimed an accusing finger at Norrington, who only stared, then walked away, shaking his head and commenting to himself about taking a bath.

"Jack," Elizabeth snapped.

He huffed and stuck up his nose, folding his arms over his chest. "Mean-spirited is all you are. No sense of amusement in the least of sorts."

"I should keel-haul you, Jack Sparrow. Or however it is you say it," she muttered huffily.

A dark eyebrow climbed and disappeared under the worn read headscarf. "Indeed."

She looked back to him. "You think I won't?" she inquired in a manner of saving pride, though a hint of smugness was peeking through.

"I do say, Miss Swann, let us ruminate on it," he suggested with more waggling of his eyebrows.

She swatted his arm, vexed. "That is all you think about. That vile drink," she scoffed.

"No, darling; ruminate. You know: ponder, cogitate, mull over… though I would gladly accept the offer, if it is you who are offering, of course."

Elizabeth blinked, staring at the strange—but, oh, so endearing—man before her.

She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was waiting for a reaction from her. Before she knew it, a smile began to tug on her lips.

Sparrow's grin grew even wider. "Ah, there it is," he commented, nudging her chin affectionately with two knuckles. "And I do owe thanks, it seems, to my protective little bonny lass."

Her brow furrowed. "Beg pardon?"

His eyes grew wide with gentle triumph. "Why, in protecting me from the Big Bad Commodore. Of the "former" sorts, that is, of course."

She sighed appreciatively, giving him a tolerant smile while shaking her head at him in fondness.

They remained there for a moment, merely looking at one another and smiling. Elizabeth was the one to break the silence. "I should perhaps go and find something to do, Captain Sparrow."

Jack nodded, and then leaned in. He spoke in a conspiratorial voice. "I should like to think that perchance the equally bonny _Pearl_ would fancy a woman's touch for a change."

Elizabeth looked to him in mild surprise, shocked that he would let her anywhere near the helm, much less take it in her hands.

He nodded his head in the spoken direction. "Go on. She won't bite." His smile grew. "She has a wicked fancy for those swells, though, so maybe you'd want to spoil her a bit," he hinted with a wink.

Elizabeth smiled at him in grateful thanks before making for the upperdeck.

Jack watched her as she did so, folding his arms again and sighing. His smile faded. His eyes grew subtlely distant as he watched her. While he was imagining himself as being the helm, he felt a presence suddenly behind him and lazy footsteps to match.

"Jack…" a distantly drowsy voice mumbled.

Jack glanced over to see the oiled and tarred face of William Turner, who apparently had just woken up. Jack's expression did not change, but his eyes widened slightly, his brow furrowing in dread.

But by chance that fell in his favor, the youngest Turner appeared yet asleep. His eyes were half-open, and he was staring at himself in somnolent disorientation. It had not yet sunk in that he would be cleansing himself in watered down rum for the next several hours.

"Did you…" Turner began, looking down at himself in discontent, smearing at the oil on his arm with the speed of a galleon and no wind.

Jack looked Will up and down, then turned to look back ahead. "No," he told him in a deadpan, shaking his head. "I think it was Norrington."

Will had been looking ahead as well, wondering what Jack was looking at. He then turned his attention back towards the pirate, staring at him silently. After several moments, he turned back to observe himself, seeming to stare at his chest.

His stare transferred forward again. "Oh," he said.

Not a time later and Jack heard the shuffling footsteps of the departing William. Jack stuffed the kohl box a little deeper in his pocket, shifting his coat over his arm.

Elizabeth was pleased that peace had commenced once more onboard the _Black Pearl_, although she hadn't expected much less that utter bedlam, especially with Jack Sparrow as its captain.

Even so, she had to wonder how long it would last. She could've sworn it was just yesterday afternoon that she had delivered a remarkably similar speech as she had just moments earlier.

Shaking her head, she was about to pass the last gate that led belowdecks when the door swung open and startled her. She gaped at the man before her; the man who it seemed had just risen for the day.

Barbossa sighed wearily, too exhausted to be furious. He plucked one of the many chicken feathers that littered his form from his drenched coat. It hadn't been raining.

"I hate that man sometimes," he said.

**There ya go! More soon to come! Lemme know yer thoughts! SAVVY!**


	11. Against the Storm

**Author's Note: Gah... this one took a bit. Apologies for that. This one isn't set in any particular timeframe. (other than POTC, of course) Could be after or at the end of AWE, but this is not how POTC3 ends. This is my own little thought and mischief. **

**Warnings: None that I can think of. VERY mild language. (One day I should just go bonkers and have Jack dropping the f! bomber leftways and right. :P)**

**Pairings: Very brief mentioning of W/E. Mild to Noticeable J/E**

**Disclaimer: Shut up, Disney, I hate you. Now go make me another POTC movie to quench my eternal hunger for Captain Jack. Make haste, slaves with bulging wallets! (J/K! I love you, Mickey! -hugs da mouse-) :P**

**Enjoy!**

.Against the Storm.

The wind wailed through the rigging with spite, the swells tossing the black ship around with titanic force. The ability to see was nigh out of the question and only darkness swallowed the night, save for the frequent lightning cracks that spread out angrily across the sky.

The decks of the _Black Pearl _hissed under the pounding of rainfall, the sureness of footing long since gone. Great gouts of sea washed over the deck, drenching the occupants and crewman who fought to steady the dark lady.

Two men had already been claimed, their captain heartsick with their fate. Captain Sparrow clung to the helm, fighting against the overpowering control of the ocean that tried to take the rudder in its own grasp. His arms ached, but he kept his footing strong.

Setting his jaw in determination, he spun the wheel in a strong arc, avoiding an oncoming swell. The tail end flushed over the deck, sending crewman off balance and into the surrounding planks.

He'd sensed the storm's approach about two hours earlier, but he was defenseless in the open ocean. There had been little wind, and the sweeps did not last them long before the gale caught up.

He would get them out of this, though. He would not let them down. Those who were already lost would receive proper farewells, as soon as current complications were dealt with. He was responsible for his men—and woman.

Distractedly, he sought her out amongst the annihilation on deck. She was struggling to secure a line, her hands shaking in the cold and overworked. He longed to go to her aid, but he had his own duties to see to. Only her silhouette seemed recognizable in the impaired sight before him.

He felt a sharp pang in his chest as he saw the rope slip away from her weak fingers. Thankfully, one was already there to relieve her. A stronger hand snatched the wild rope, pulling it back to its rightful place.

Will Turner offered her a distracted and reassuring smile, and Jack could read her lips as she gave him her gratitude.

Relieved that that was taken care of, he turned his attention back to the pressing navigation ahead of him. He nearly lost his footing as another wave shook the _Pearl_ violently beneath him. Catching himself as momentum sent him roughly against the helm, he tried to steady his stance. The wind had been briefly stolen from his lungs, and before he could gather his bearings, a sudden masculine shout of distress carried brokenly across the deck through the raging elements.

His eyes flew to the lower deck, watching with horror overtaking him as the blacksmith dashed for the railing. The aftermath of a swell had just settled on the deck, and Jack only saw one where there should have been two.

_Oh God, no,_ he thought with crushing dread. He had no doubt that the boy would have gone overboard after her, but three members of his crew were there to hold him back.

Abandoning the wheel, he dashed for the stairs. "Cotton! Take her!" he commanded frantically of his second-hand man. He heard the parrot squawk in distress as its master fought against the wind to obey his captain's orders.

"Let go of me!" Will demanded, fighting against the crew's hold with every ounce of strength in him. Two more had to add their muscle in securing the lad.

Jack's boots hit the deck with a wet thud and he hastened over to the struggle.

"She's gone, Will!" Joshamee Gibbs bellowed dejectedly, fighting to keep him back.

"No!" the boy thrashed, and then finally noticed the captain's presence. "Jack! Please, we must do something!" he pleaded imploringly; desperate.

Jack didn't think the moisture on his face was solely due to the downpour. Just the day before, the two had been quarrelling and ready to kill one another, but now the boy looked to him for despairing aid.

Jack looked to the rail, which was missing a good chunk of itself. The force of the swell must have sent her clean through it. He could not answer the boy; the sinking in his chest was almost too much to bear as he stared soberly at the blemish in the railing.

As if by some other calling, his gaze slowly flickered off to the right. Through the haze of rainfall, he spied a coil of rope trapped between the mainmast and a stack of crates.

Feeling a shudder slowly work its way down his spine, he turned his gaze back to the raging sea. Lighting struck above; thunder rumbling and resonating through his ears. Waves crashed and roared with fury, spraying sea across the black horizon.

Gibbs was relieved that they were improving on reigning in the young blacksmith. "Cap'n! We're into the wind! We need…" his voice trailed off as he noticed the sudden absence of his leader. A dull thud was lost in the onslaught of torrents. Gibbs turned to see the leather hat which traditionally bedecked his captain's head of unkempt locks sitting as if abandoned near the mainmast. His line of sight then traveled to the end of rope that was secured fast to the metal gears. "Jack?" the first mate's thick brow furrowed and he fought to see past the hail of wind and rain.

A sudden flash whipped past him and he, as well as the remaining crew, turned in time to see Jack Sparrow leap onto the railing before launching himself into the air, his arms outspread like wings as he soared over the churning waves. It was barely a moment later that he disappeared beneath them like a ghost.

Gibbs felt himself pale as he cringed. "Lord on High," he whispered a prayerful oath under his breath, forced to decide on whether or not he should order the men to start fishing in their captain. He bit his tongue, knowing that if they did, their captain would only send them after the girl in a far more uncomfortable manner.

Hitting the icy waters had felt as if receiving a shot to the heart and a thousand Navy knives digging into his flesh. Jack surfaced a short time after, taking in a heavy gasp of air. He struggled to remain surfaced, feeling the sea raging around him. A wave washed over him and he was momentarily disoriented.

Regaining his senses, he fought to see beyond the spray and rain in search of her. He knew it would do no good to call her name. He could scarcely hear his own breathing. He also realized now that he should have shed his coat. Well, it was too late for that now, and he wasn't about to surrender a good coat.

The saltwater stung his eyes as he swam forwards, pulling himself through the water like the entity of the sea that he was.

He cursed inwardly.

_Dammit, where is she?_ He attempted to remain calm and not lose his head, especially in a situation such as this.

He had brought himself away from the ship, and was now treading in circles, constantly beaten by the angry swells. The taste of bitter salt water lingered on his tongue as the waters continued to pound against him in hatred. He needed light.

A flash of lightning lit up the sky and water's surface. It was not much, but it was more than he had. He searched with frantic speed, and then the flicker was gone.

Another flash.

The light disappeared before he could decipher anything, but he thought that there may have been something. A darkened blur in the already black night.

Already he could feel his limbs trembling and his jaw quivering. The chill of the sea was so bone-penetrating and cruel, and the harder he fought to remain still, the worse the torment became.

It seemed like an eternity before the third strike lit up the sky. His eyes searched, darting about like a crow's until… golden hair.

He felt a lightening in his chest and he began to swim forward. "Elizabeth!"

He could not see if the girl had turned, nor if she had heard him. Neither possibility mattered, and so onward he went. His strokes were strong and sure, and soon, he could make out the outline of her figure.

She was floating on what seemed to be a shattered section of wood. He could see her shaking in the cold, fighting to hold on to the board that may have saved her life.

"Elizabeth!"

Elizabeth heard a distant, but all-to-familiar voice in the back of her running thoughts. She thought her mind was playing tricks on her, but then she heard the call yet again. She forced her numbing body to turn slightly, idle tears frozen to her pale cheeks, and she searched the waves for any sign. Suddenly, under a flash of lightning, she spied a body swimming for her.

The first thing she recognized in the fleeting light was the solid red of a bandana. "Jack!" she choked out, new tears welling in her eyes now that she knew she would be saved.

Jack swam as hard as his limbs would allow until he could almost see the moisture in her eyes.

"Jack!" she cried again, reaching out to him—her life line. Her fingers trembled as they came into contact with his own hand that gripped the plank. He pulled himself up beside her, breathing heavily. "Oh, God," she whispered frantically, and he could feel the warmth of tears on her face beneath the chill of rain as he cradled her cheek, "Please, tell me you're real…"

"I'm right here, Lizzie, are you all right?" his voice was filled with concern as his black eyes searched her for injury.

She couldn't give him a reply. She was too occupied by taking comfort in his presence. And she felt so very tired…

"Elizabeth," he said, more stern, taking her by the shoulders and holding her face. "Are you hurt?"

She took in a breath, shielding her eyes with her right hand as a wave overtook them momentarily. She felt his embrace encircle her protectively until the swell passed. She winced slightly as he pulled her closer to himself. "My arm…"

Jack briefly inspected the damage and deduced that she had injured it while being sent through the railing. He readjusted her about himself so that she could look at him. "You don't worry about a thing, darling, you hear me? Just concentrate on your grip. Hold on to me, savvy?"

"Jack," she coughed, fighting to keep the ocean from her lungs. "You can't… not in this storm."

"You let me worry about that," he told her, beginning to swim partly on his back, one arm gripping her tightly to his chest while the other propelled them onward towards the ship.

The waves around him were not gentle, nor were they merciful as they beat against him and tried to toss them this way and that.

Elizabeth clung to him desperately, shivering violently within the icy waters. She felt her teeth chattering, but did as he'd told her. Her fingers held no feeling, but she made certain that they held onto him. She winced and gave a short cry into his shoulder as another wave jarred her wounded arm.

A sudden swell overtook them, and she felt an equal feeling of dread surge through her as she was ripped away from him. She squeezed her eyes shut; terrified, as she was forced below the waves.

She knew she had to swim—had to at least try to surface. She kicked her feet with all her might; exhausted and weakening. She outstretched her hand in the depths, hoping she would reach what little light there was above…

Another hand gripped hers.

In a manner of moments, strength that was not her own was pulling her to the surface, and soon she could taste the air. She gasped for it, clinging to his drenched coat for life.

Jack coughed and forced the sea from his lungs as he reaccepted the burden of added weight. He was thankful, though, that she was not donned in one of those ridiculous dresses.

Another wave slammed against them, but he did not release her. The sea would not win. It would not take her from him.

And then suddenly he felt his face pale even more in the chill of night and storm. He could no longer feel the constricting rope around his waist. He cursed impressively, but pulled Elizabeth tighter against his chest. "Keep your grip tight," he told her. "Don't you let go of me."

"Alright," he heard her whisper in a small voice. She buried her face in the junction of his throat and shoulder, trying to shy away from the elements.

Things had gotten considerably more difficult, but he prayed it wasn't more than Captain Jack Sparrow could handle. He certainly may have been of slighter size, but he was a mighty swimmer and always had been.

He drove onward with everything he had. He was draining quickly now, though. His muscles were aching—burning with fatigue and crying out, while at the same time numb and chilled. His lungs protested achingly, begging for sufficient air. What breath he had left came now in ragged pants.

The swells tossed them violently; merciless and bitter.

Finally, he could see his lady ship amongst the Hell that was crushing down upon them. It gave him added strength, if so very little. He fought with every morsel he possessed.

Just when he thought he could not go any longer, his trembling fingertips grazed the black mahogany of salvation. He thought he would burst into tears.

His work was not yet finished, however. Above him, he could hear the frantic shouts of his mates, searching him out. They had also realized that the rope had since gone slack.

"We're here, love," he whispered with the only voice he had left. To speak made his throat catch and ache. "Hold on just a bit longer," he encouraged between wracking coughs.

Lifting his arm felt like lifting a deadweight. With an unsteady wavering, he gripped the first rung of the mounting ladder in his hand. His fingers were ice.

With a protesting cry, he lifted them both to the first foot rung. He began to ascend, knowing every last ounce of his strength was soon to give out. He pushed himself beyond limit, and after what seemed like excruciating hours, he thought it was the railing he felt beneath his numb grasp.

Shouts of relief and oaths rang up around him in the roar of the storm, and he felt hands on him, helping him over the rail. He felt the added weight on his being ebbing away, and the instant it was gone, he collapsed to the deck.

His entire self had lost all feeling and it was as if he was drowning and dying of thirst all at once. His breathing was ragged and broken; heavy.

"Jack!" he heard the distant voice of Gibbs as his first mate dropped down before him, panicked. He felt a hand on his shoulder, but he shook his head.

"See to her first," he panted. "Her arm," he went on, "fractured… I think…"

Gibbs respected his captain, and with a nod, he was gone.

Jack lay there, gasping for air for what seemed like the longest time before he felt able enough to sit upright.

He swallowed thickly, feeling the sweat on his neck even in the icy chill of the elements. He couldn't get his body to stop shaking.

He placed his hands firmly on the deck and pushed himself weakly to his elbows, and then to his knees. In the low light, he suddenly saw a hand before him, outstretched and offering aid.

He looked up blearily into the face of William Turner. The boy's eyes were determined and concerned.

With a feeble effort, he gripped the proffered hand and he was pulled to his feet and steadied by the blacksmith. The boy helped him to lean against the planks near the ascending staircase, the rain teeming around them while the crew hustled to their duties, a few making sure of their captain's well-being. Elizabeth was already being cared for.

The boy's eyes were earnest and willful. "Thank you," he said.

Jack, still catching his breath, could only nod as he leaned forward with his hands on his knees.

"That is the second time I've fetched your bonny lass from the drink. Although this time called for far more substantial effort than the last," he commented with some feeling.

Will laughed a bit awkwardly and clapped him on the back. "In danger of becoming a good man, then?"

"Dreadfully," Sparrow lamented with an exhausted sigh. "I'm getting sudden impulses to make port and join the nearest clergy where I'd bequeath my offerings to cute little mongrels and impoverished elderlies. Take my own gun to me before I feel the need to give the _Pearl _a fresh paint and British colors."

Will laughed a bit easier, leaning against the wall beside Jack. He thought about asking the pirate captain just how many times he had saved his betrothed, but decided against it. He probably wouldn't like the answer. Especially when he expected it to greatly exceed his own.

Will frowned. Such things did not matter. Elizabeth was safe and that is what made his heart warm. The frown was due to plaguing suspicions on why they were having such a time in returning to Port Royal.

He almost dreaded the thought of returning, because he knew it would either be worth the wait and harsh elements, or he would be receiving a heartbreaking disappointment.

Jack removed his rain-heavy and chilling jacket, allowing it to fall to the deck with a wet thud. He needed to change into fresh clothes soon. It would do no good to die of pneumonia after such success.

After all, the sea had not won. And there was another victory for Captain Jack Sparrow.

**DO YOU LIKE IT! Mostly this was just to feed my lack of being able to witness Jack's amazing dive in DMC. (He'd better make up for it and then some in AWE!)**


	12. A Lady No More

**Author's Note: ZOMG! (What does that bloody Z stand for, anyway?!) I haven't updated in so long! Or, at least, it seems that way to me. Please, please forgive me! I hope this one will quench your thirst on account of my extended absence. P This one I wrote before DMC even came out, though it is set in POTC3:AWE. So, obviously, I knew the ending of #2, but I didn't know much about #3. **

**Warnings: Not much. Spoilers for DMC, and VERY VERY mild, nigh unnoticeable spoilers for AWE. Like I said, this was my own interpretation before I knew anything much about P3. **

**Pairings: J/E (not heavy stuff)**

**Disclaimer: Would that I could, I do not own Jack Sparrow, _(CAPTAIN, ye daft loon!)_ who is my reoccurring muse. At the present moment, he has no rum in his bloodstream, therfore making him currently easily irritable, daft (as usual), miffed, obnoxious, short-tempered, and anything but a reliable editor, as well as, in conclusion, incredibly adorable and rather cute. I digress. **

**Do enjoy!**

.A Lady No More.

She didn't even have enough strength left to fool herself, she mused, brokenhearted and weary.

Elizabeth Swann was terrified. But no, she would not show it. Defiantly, she raised her chin as the Chinese pirates sidled closer to her, rotted teeth bared in disgusting leers. She was weaponless; beaten. Various scars and gashes riddled her lovely face from the fight—past battles included. But some scars ran deeper than flesh, she realized, and prepared to accept her fate.

She deserved this, she thought. She would die here, in this abandoned place—forgotten by those she loved and all else. Her thoughts continued to run while she remained stoic and still. In her eyes, she knew this is what she surely deserved. To die like this. Alone.

Sensing her final moments, she closed her eyes. This was the end. She could almost hear Lady Fortune laughing at her—laughing at the little swan who thought she could fly. She truly thought the musical ringing was the gentle mirth of imagined Fates, but her rational mind knew it was not joyful triumph of another, but rather the metallic song of unsheathing weapons.

Jack had been right.

Freedom always came with a price.

Her heart pounded within her chest and she could feel unshed tears stinging at her eyes, hidden beneath their lids. But she stayed true to her word. She would not show them her fear. The governor's daughter was gone. All that remained was Elizabeth.

She heard the whoosh of swords upraised, and felt her body flush rigid in anticipation. She hoped she would not feel pain, but knew that she should. Her breath caught in her throat, and a broken whimper was lost in the fallen silence.

And then, suddenly, she felt another presence in front of her, and chaos ensued.

Dazed at her continuance of life, it took her several moments to regain certain composure and finally open her eyes. What she saw unfolded too quickly for her watery, disorientated sight to deduce. She could, however, make out that many were dying. They would scream, clutch themselves, and fall to the earth. Thereafter, they were still.

She could not dwell on one body for too long, for the next diminutive battle would rip her attention away and another would follow. It finally came to her.

One man; no more. All of the Chinese pirates were falling at one man's hand. Said man was easily recognizable. He fought with such a vengeance and safeguard towards herself that it startled her.

Finally, the last enemy fell, and the executioner went still. Elizabeth's eyes bore into his straight, defiant back, and the painful memories began to assault her mind like a cold flood. This was not their first reunion since they'd found him in that Hell, but it seemed as though she were first laying eyes on him since… her treachery. It was certainly their first time alone since then if one did not count the motionless bodies riddled amongst the earth.

He sheathed the unclean sword at his side, his head bowed slightly as he looked from one fallen man to the other in solemnity. He was so deathly still that she wondered if he was really there. Breathing had become difficult for her, unsteady and shallow as she recalled too clearly how she had manipulated him with a lover's kiss. Through her thoughts, she could see him turning, coming to face her.

She had sacrificed her champion for the lives of others. She screamed internally at her heart that there was no other way it could have been done. Besides, he was alive now and well, and all had been restored as it should be. Hadn't it.

Hadn't it?

His eyes met hers, black and smoldering, like the darkest of seas. In them, masked and hidden pain was evidently written. But beneath that, something more. A somber sort of understanding, and with it, his stare bore into her own, seeming to strip her of her very being.

He had called her a pirate. And he had been right. That was what she had become. But not of the storybook kind, nor of her childhood fairytales. She felt the tears clinging to her lashes, ready to fall. The pain was so great in her heart that she wished he would just send her after those pirates that lay before her.

"Jack," she choked out.

The pirate before her remained quiet, eyes as guarded as ever. They were neither cold nor hard, but the tension between them both was painfully evident. Yes, he had understood and accepted what she had done and had looked to her then with gentle pride. But she would never blame him for holding a grudge.

Why should he not? She had gained his trust, perhaps in an informal and unproclaimed manner, but then her own actions destroyed such a previous bond between them. She so very much wished things could go back to how they had been: jesting and irking each other to the point of utter madness, then laughing it off and repeating the process in due time. She had felt such comfort around him and was able to fully breathe. No other person had made her behave and feel in such a way. Not even William Turner.

She choked back another sob, sniffing away her tears, or attempting to. "You came back for me," she was able to say, though unable to do so without a broken fracture. She had smiled when she'd said it, but found she could not hold it until she was finished.

He, too, attempted a smile, and failed. "A recent habit of mine, it seems." There was a hitch in his own voice. He released his breath and was undecided as far as if he possessed the strength to meet her eyes. His eyebrows were arched upwards, his lips in a pained frown.

True, his persistence and never-ending flirtations succeeded in making her want to pull the hair right from her skull—or his own skull, depending on her mood. But now she wondered if they truly had irked her. She recalled how she had behaved equally in return, surprised at herself for her actions then, but she didn't remember caring then, either. Oh, how she longed for those times now! Their playful banter, the continuing war between them—declared not so long ago onboard the _Dauntless_.

Such reveries brought about the lump that rose in her throat and the wetness that surrounded her eyes. She felt herself tremble and her knees go weak under his penetrating stare, and she fought to hold his gaze that was now locked on her being. She found she could not.

She held her lower lip tightly between her teeth and felt the warmth of tears as they began their descending journey down her battered cheeks. She released a shaken breath and felt her jaw quaver and her heart clenched as she saw the pain behind his eyes—his unbreakable mask.

She had seen his mask break that fateful day on the _Pearl_. It had been right before she'd sealed the lock of the chain. He had known, and yet he had completely surrendered himself to her, body and soul. No longer did he flee the new beating of his heart that only occurred in her presence.

She'd spoken of how she had no regrets.

Oh, but she did. She truly, deeply, did.

Unable to remain in control, she broke from his gaze like the shattering of porcelain. The breaking of a fine woman.

She brought up her hands to her face and choked on another sob, sinking to her knees before him. Her shoulders wilted as she cried, eyes tightly shut and trying to will away the visions of the _Pearl_ being devoured by that accursed monster, and he with it.

The pain he must have felt! Of her own betrayal! She was supposed to be his ally, his friend! The only woman to claim to claim his heart. How many times would this man have to suffer the lies of his closest comrades?

She cried harder, her salty tears setting afire the cuts and bruises on her fair skin. She didn't care that she was breaking down right in front of him. In past times, she may have, and maybe she wouldn't have. Times, however, had certainly changed.

Through her tears, she could sense him drawing closer to her broken form, if even perhaps a little uncertain. He was standing directly before her now, and she fought her hardest not to wonder what he may have been thinking.

She was too lost in her own misery to notice him lowering himself to her level, coming to his own knees. He remained silent.

He waited there, patient and studying the girl for some time. His brow was slightly drawn, though he could hardly be described as being at ease.

He knew he had no reason to forgive her. The fact of it was, however, he already had. Albeit unwillingly, he had forgive her before he'd even heard the _click_ of the lock.

Even so, he could never forget. He could never forget his sweet little bonny lass and how she had done what had to be done when no one else had the courage to—not even himself. Even as a pirate, she was righteous in nature. He had needed her then. He'd needed her comfort to accept what he had to do.

Elizabeth's body went rigid with fear as she felt a weight on her shoulder. Her crying had not ceased, but she was terrified at the rough, scarred hand that now rested there. Said hand held more weight that just a matter of simple physics. It held the weight of a burden—the gravity of what she had committed.

Soon, though, it was followed by another. He held her by the shoulders now, and was hesitant at first, but then gradually he began to pull her to himself.

Her heart nearly dropped into her stomach as she felt his strong arms embrace her trembling form.

_Oh, God… _she thought with overwhelming feeling.

How the tears came now.

His touch was not angered, as she may have feared, but rather gentle and, most of all, forgiving. She began to sob, all the walls having collapsed within her. Her chest heaved with every wracking cry and she was too weak to even hold him back. Only her fingers clung tightly to the fabric of his shirt and coat as she buried her face below the junction of his neck and shoulder. She'd never cried so hard in her life.

"I'm sorry!" she wept against him. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" her words broke off and became incoherent, drowned out by her tears.

His embrace only tightened comfortingly around her. He felt his own eyes stinging as his vision became blurred. He did not doubt a single morsel of her sincerity. His cheek brushed against her hair and he closed his eyes.

"I know, Lizzie," he told her softly.

Another crestfallen sob escaped her lips at the hearing of him calling her by the name. Thereafter, her cries softened slightly, muffled within his familiar garments. "Oh, Jack…" she breathed, feeling the warmth of new tears as they fell. He was too good a man for this. She did not deserve such treatment after all she had done.

She inhaled a quick and shaken breath, sniffling and pressing closer against him in security. He smoothed a hand over her hair and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. For how long they remained like this, he didn't remember. She'd continued to cry, and he'd held her.

He wanted to be in no other place right now. With no other person.

For being his supposed murderer, she was really his escape.

**Why not take a gander at that handsome little review button yonder below? You know you want to. Jack would like you to... gives adorable eyes D**


	13. Author's Note 4 and Trailer

**YAY! Author's Note! We love them, yes we do. Keep convincing yourself of that. :D I really want to thank everyone for sticking with me on these! Lately I've been busy and haven't been able to whip them up as quick as usual, if you'll forgive of that. **

**Random zinthos: Thanks very much:D I'm glad you like!**

**Cap'n Jack: What DOES that bloody Z stand for anyway:P Thank you so much for the praise! I'm glad you look for my updates. :) One must get their daily dose of J/E, you are correct. ;P Thanks so much!**

**JeanieBeanie33: Yes, they are Jack eyes! I only wish I could give such a performance with my peepers as he:P From the beginning of CotBP, I always thought of him as her savior in a way. Not to say that Will isn't, but on a more personal and symbolic level. Thank you for the comparison, as well. I always tried to never steer into OOC waters. I try to keep them both—everyone, for that matter—completely in sync with their true nature. And yes, it is my dream to be held by Captain Jack. –sigh- Unfortunately, he is a fictional character, which I must remind myself everyday (:P). **

**BTW, Ted (or Terry?) have blatantly just hinted at and rather confirmed our suspicions on their WordPlayer that Jack is indeed –gasp- in love with another besides his darling _Pearl_. Truth? Thine name est Elizabeth. :D **

**(I already knew this, but to have it set in stone by the creators themselves just made me smile) **

**On a second note, I have very little patience, myself, and so I can only bask in your patience with me when it takes 2 weeks for me to triumph over my laziness and update. On the topic of my lack of fortitude, I have made a little trailer description to tide myself over until presented with the real thing. :D I am happy to share my madness with you, but be warned! SPOILERS of the loveliest kind! **

**(This is not the real deal, as I have made it up, but I have used true events and true dialogue within. Not every scene/moment is sworn to be intact in the final product of the film, but most of it does contain little and big spoilies. I tried to keep it both J/E and W/E oriented so all can be happy.) **

**Enjoy!**

(very quiet and sad music plays over the disney and bruckheimer logo) ( black screen) Knightley's voice: "This is the only way, don't you see?" (dramatice pause) "Pirate."  
(thunder cracks over storming sky, camera zooms down to give view of a chinese junk ship) (music is building, dramatic and choir-like version of "he's a pirate", kinda: da, da, da, da, da, da, da-da)  
Knightley to McNally: "How are we to trust him?"  
Shot of Rush at the wheel, mad and feral grin/ "Brace yerselves for this, lads and ladies!" / he laughs  
(screaming and shouts, ship tips...) (Screen cuts to black, drums sound)  
THIS MEMORIAL DAY...  
Hollander: "The world is changing, Admiral. The future is here and the pirates will soon be vanquished from existence." / Davenport, at his side, frowning / Jone's men are hauling cargo about the docks of Port Royal/  
A RESCUE... UNLIKE ANY OTHER...  
(camera zooms over vast desert)(imbedded screams of agony from the unfamiliar world/realm)/ Depp kneels, carving words into the sand / he looks up at sound of great explosion / (cynical grin) "Well, well, well." / Knightley: "We've come to liberate you from your prison, Jack Sparrow, in payment for your heroic deeds." / he stares down at her, then glances at other members of crew / many wideangled shots of ocean, ships, and jungle / Depp, Rush, and Bloom walking along riverbank, water canteens slung over shoulder / Depp and Rush draw swords, each at each other's throat / Depp voiceover: "Have you ever considered that perhaps I do not wish to be rescued?" (his tone is cold) / Bloom, angered: "You're coming with us! We've been through too much!" / shot of Yun-Fat grinning as Bloom hands over Depp / Yun-Fat puts knife to his throat / Yun Fat: "You are about to make me very rich." / Knightley: "Enough!"  
Rush: "The Brethren will gather." / Depp: "Safety in numbers, then." / Rush: "An uneasy alliance?" / Depp: "An unholy one." / They shake hands /  
Nighy: "You will not go back to them?" / Davenport: "I will not question my orders again." /  
McNally: "Beckett has an army waiting for us! How are we supposed to fight with only a dozen men?" / shots of naval fleet and Beckett smirking at its front / Depp: "Assassination, government overthrow, common law rights... I AM declaring war against his LORDSHIP. And I know of someone who could help." (pointed look at Tia) / action shots/ (operamatic music)  
Knightley to Depp: "I can't say what I want to say."  
shot of Depp running his hand over black wood surface / Bloom fighting back soldiers / monkey lighting firecracker / exploding bathhouse / cannon fire / Bloom hugs Knightley / pirate gathering  
JOHNNY DEPP  
Depp siezes Beckett by throat, sword in other hand / Depp runs along railing, unsheathing sword in massive battle  
ORLANDO BLOOM  
Bloom lashes body to barrel / Bloom, holding Knightley by face "I LOVE you."  
KEIRA KNIGHTLEY  
Knightley in oriental gown / Knightley throwing compass away from self / Knightley fighting  
Nighy, angered: "Sparrow..." / Depp, on rope, reaches downward / Knightley, in water, reaches up / Harris: "Turner has his destiny mapped, but you have your own to consider, Jack Sparrow." / more action shots / Depp aims cannon at deck and fires / Depp dives into water / Bloom fights Chinese men / Yun-Fat punches Depp / more cannon fire / Bloom studies knife / Depp and Knightley walking, opposing Nighy and Bloom / Knightley screams for Depp / Depp and Bloom fight /  
Hollander, angered: "No mercy will be given! No soul will be spared!" / HUGE titanic battle scene / shot of crows nest, storming, collossal waves, Depp and Nighy clash /  
swords rush and clang, cutting open blood red fabric to reveal pirate skull and logo  
PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: AT WORLD'S END

**Ta Da!**


	14. Author's Note 5

**Author's Note: "AGAIN?!" they cry. So sorry, but I just got so many reviews over the span of mere hours and many had questions that I was all too happy to answer. **

**I'll thank as well, because I checked back on other chapters and noticed that I missed people who replied lately on previous posts of mine. **

**NerdsUnited: Thank you so much! I do try very hard to keep things very eloquent and have them match the time period. You gave me some extra confidence there, and it is much appreciated. :D**

**a-k-a amber: It's on WordPlayer, a site of theirs. The site is nigh impossible to navigate and I cannot find any direct links, but many of their quotes can be found posted at Go to the messageboard area, spec and spoilers, and try the News & Pics #2 (or #3) thread, Jack Liz shipper thread 3, and any other useful ones that may help. Those are the main ones I can think of that have housed their quotes. **

**JeanieBeanie33: I made the trailer description myself, and I apologize if it appeared that I had gotten an original. My own madness, it was--intertwined with fact and spoilers. Some of the scenes were directly from the leaked script for #3, which, however, was only a very rough first draft used for budgeting reasons. Much of the dialogue in the final version will be changed or altered, in fact most of it will be. (According to Ted and Terry as well) Only the main and key plot points are said to remain intact. About my profile: this is the only story-post I have going right now, as you probably noticed if you did check it out (:P)(lol), but I have many ideas spinning about my noggin' and I'm sure it will be no time before I start posting them. :D Thanks for sticking with me! **

**mar1966: Thanks so much! I hope to make my own one day. But with the books I'm writing, not POTC. :P I'll let you know if any contracts are signed. ;D lol**

**sk8erbabz: Thanks a lot! So glad you're back! I missed you:D**

**Cyber hugs to all! **

**And you can probably expect a new oneshot by tomorrow. :D **


	15. Battle of the Titans

**Author's Note: This 'un was born of a request from JeanieBeanie33. :D This one falls in line with "To Reign in Fire". Heap big fight ahead. :D There is also a brief reference towards the young Jack Sparrow books.**

**Warnings: SPOILERS! OF THE MAJOR SORTS!**

**Pairings: None. (Unless you count that Mr. Sparrow and Mr. Jones are duking it out like an old married couple. To each their own, I 'spose) **

**Disclaimer: If I owned Jack Sparrow, I wouldn't be storywriting with him, I can wager you that. :D**

.Battle of the Titans.

Following an eerie moment of dead silence aside from the rampant elements around them, Jones felt his rage mount and finally overcome his mentality completely. With a roar of malice, he lunged at the smaller captain.

Upon the singing impact of their weapons, war was waged on the soiled deck of the decent-sized clipper. Like a great bludgeon, Jones continued to bring his blade down upon his foe, driving him back across the deck. His claw swiped across the air, and Sparrow spun deftly out of harm's way and ducked the following attack delivered.

Battle continued on, the rapid sound of steel against steel echoing and merging with the wailing wind and thunderous sky. Rain beat against them like daggers, and lightning cracked.

Jones continued to herd his quarry towards a solid element, and soon Sparrow's back met roughly with the wooden planks of a cabin's exterior. With a murderous growl, Jones brought his clawed appendage forward like the striking of a snake. Sparrow ducked and the pinscher impacted against the timber, turning the planks to splinters.

Momentarily trapped, Jones swung blindly with his other armed limb, scarcely missing Sparrow's face. With another growl, he tore his claw from the planks, pursuing his prey. Again and again their blades met, with skill as swift as the wind that was whipping.

Back, up the brief staircase they fought. They were equally drenched to the bone in the chilling storm. Jones defended one of Sparrow's surprisingly strengthened blows, and quickly brought his claw to swipe at his foe's legs. Tripping him up, Jones triumphed as Sparrow fell violently atop the stairs. He raised his broadsword to strike, but the elusive captain brought his boot up, and with harsh impact, it connected with Jones' face.

Jones' staggered back a step, his claw clutching the railing to prevent him from plummeting. Sparrow stumbled to his feet, hastily ascending the staircase towards the helm. Jones' face contorted into a scowl and he quickly gave chase, clambering up the steps after him.

Sparrow was at the wheel of the now abandonned ship and gave it a rough turn in course, sending Jones staggering momentarily. With an angry snort, he dug his clawed leg into the decking, holding himself still before stalking towards the helm.

Blades sung with sharp resonating, glowing under the lightning strikes above. Sparrow backed the monster against the wheel. Upon dodging another attack, one of his blades ripped across a barnacled shoulder and bit into flesh.

Jones snarled at the pain he'd forgotten he was able to feel, and brought the hilt of his sword across Sparrow's jaw. The pirate staggered from the crack, but was ready when Jones charged.

Fighting across the deck once more, a mast was soon to flank them. Sparrow lunged with one of his blades, but Jones was quick to elude it—not repeating his previous mistake. With a subtle shower of sparks, the blade slid and locked into one of the chains littered about the mast.

His right hand now trapped, Sparrow blocked one of the oncoming attacks, made difficult due to the superior strength and size of his opponent's weapon compared to only one of his own. Blocking another, he ducked the next and spun so that his left shoulder touched his right hand and ripped the blade from the metal links, swiping across the air. Jones was quick to be missed, and Sparrow was equally swift to dance around his own attacks.

Jones' blade swung, humming in the storm, and bit deeply into the wooden mast and chipped the craftsmanship as Sparrow sidestepped. Defending Sparrow's next parry with the flat of his blade, Jones then drove it forward and pinned Sparrow's blade to the mast with his own. With his left appendage, Jones brought his claw crushing down against Sparrow's right hand.

The pirate shouted in pain, his weapon clattering to the deck. Jones sneered in the rain, taking pleasure in Sparrow's torment.

Still armed with another blade, Jack seized a nearby line dangling in the pouring elements with his left sword-hand, stamping his boot against the crank. Quick as a shot, the crank began to whir, the opposing leverage pulling Sparrow from his feet and carrying him into the rigging.

Momentarily stunned, Jones quickly frowned and gave a growl of rage, his tentacles writhing about his face.

Fast loosing his grip due to the awkward and cumbersome nature of his already occupied hand, Sparrow released the rope and seized a railing that came into view. Wincing and giving a groan as he clutched his injured hand to his chest, he pulled himself up and over the rail and into the crow's nest.

Thankful for his ambidexterity, he gripped his remaining weapon tightly in his left hand. He much preferred the use of his right, and cursed Jones blue for the inconvenient strike. He breathed heavily already from the fight, straightening against the rail, his eyes searching warily about. He wiped the sweat, blood, and rain from his face with the back of his hand. He could feel the ship sinking beneath them, growing steadier in pace by the minute.

Jack gave a start as Jones appeared before him, his brow lowered into a scowl. "You," the sea monster spat in his unique accent, "are more trouble than you are worth."

Jack gripped the hilt of the sword tighter in his hand. Jones' sharp blue eyes darted about his surroundings, acknowledging the gale around them. "Do you think that by releasing her, you have spared your beloved Brethren? She will destroy them," he snapped.

Sparrow easily noticed the slight hitch in Jones' voice when he spoke of 'her'. He glared the sea-being down defiantly. "She won't." His tone was flat and laced with ice.

"No?" Jones cocked his head, his eyes blinking ferociously in calculation. "What makes you so mindless as to think that?"

Sparrow grinned without humor, a shark's grin that made Jones' undead blood boil. "I asked her not to."

Jones frowned, and he quickly began to fit the pieces together. His irritated features slowly molded into rage and utter wrath. He shook with anger and his face twitched. "She could never love you!" he barked, his breathing hole seeming to spout fire.

Sparrow could see it coming. With a war cry of hatred, Jones lunged with his weapon. The pirate leapt away and the broadsword's blade cut through the crude railing of the 'nest, sending chips of wood plummeting to the deck which seemed so very far from their elevation.

Jones swung again, and Sparrow matched him for every attack, despite his injury—now using both hands to hold his weapon. They fought on either side of the mast, back and forth in a dizzying rage. Jones snapped his claw at the pirate for a momentary distraction. Sparrow recognized the trick, but had no choice to avoid the oncoming threat. As he did so, Jones swung his blade in a tight arc, slicing across pirate's upper arm. Sparrow cried out, falling against the mast.

Jones meant to attack, but Sparrow sent a boot to his chest and shoved him back with a kick. Overcoming the pain, he made no move to give the sea monster leverage. Already he could feel the warmth of blood spreading across his coatsleeve.

Jones growled, sending Sparrow's sword away from himself before driving his human knee into the pirate's middle and shoving him against the unstable railing. The fragile rail shook from the impact and Sparrow fell against the planks beneath their feet.

Setting his jaw, he drove the sharp end of his blade into the meat of Jones' leg. The _Dutchman_ captain howled in anger, attempting to run the smaller pirate through, but Sparrow had already flipped up to his feet, ducking behind the center mast as the broadsword gouged deeply into it.

Jones ripped it loose and parried Sparrow back before interlocking their blades and jerking the smaller man forward, glaring into his face. "I remember your voice carrying out across the waves two decades ago," Jones recalled, a wicked and sinister grin upon his face. "How valiant little Jack Sparrow planned to rid the world of the evil sea-keeper, Davey Jones." He grinned again, his stare reflecting madness and rage—seeing the flames burning within his foes glaring eyes. "Always sworn to kill me, you were." He emitted a sick and mocking laugh. "Foolish boy," he chided, disgusted. His face tightened, his features twisting in revulsion and anger. "I am forever," he rasped.

Sparrow's brow lowered, his eyes raging fire. Clenching his teeth, he began to force his opponent back. Jones was bemused at the fact that it was becoming more difficult to overpower the smaller captain. He blinked in angry confusion as Sparrow shoved him against the mast.

"Forever ends tonight," the pirate growled.

With a quick twist he pulled back and threw the _Dutchman's_ captain against the railing, using his own weapon to easily disarm his foe. The mighty broadsword skidded and lay harmlessly before his feet.

Jones clutched the railing behind him, staring somewhat in bemusement towards the being before him.

The wind whipped, sending the pirate's dreadlocks dashing across his face. He had appeared to rise in height, though the notion was physically untrue.

Through the wailing of the storm, he heard the sound of her voice intertwined within. It called to him, whispering promises untold. It rang in his ears—a pleasant melody that contrasted with the hellish gale.

_Your destiny lies here…_ she told him, and he could sense her soul flying and feeding off the waves that beat against the ship with titanic, though lulling force, slowly swallowing it whole, encouraging him on.

Lightning reflected in the pirate's eyes as he faced off against his weaponless foe. Jones only stared at the glowering face of what he thought was a weak underling—barely worthy of his time.

To his surprise, a ghost of a grin, there and then gone, tugged at the corner of the pirate's mouth. With a conquering air, he put his boot against the broadsword's blade and gave it a shove. The blade slid against the slick planking, coming to rest before Jones' own feet.

Jones observed the blade at his feet, and then looked to Sparrow. The pirate stared back. A dark eyebrow crept up and disappeared beneath the dark red headscarf in the teeming rain.

Jones grinned maliciously, bending and scooping up the sword before the two mythical and legendary titans clashed. Behind their ongoing battle, a mass of colossal sea rose up, roaring and fueling the fire that had begun to ignite thirteen years prior.

**There ya have it! Yar! I really liked the outcome of this one. Quite proud of it I am. Many little spoilies as well as big spoilies were swarming in that one. Jones is actually rumored to crush Jack's hand in their fight. Lemme know what you think:D**


	16. Last Glance

**Author's Note: Hmmm... only one review on the last one. :( If it was because of the spoiler warning, as one reviewer mentioned, I can honestly say that I was just being silly when I expressed "of the major sorts". It is merely spoiling that the two characters do fight, where they fight, and what is happening around them. Such information was revealed at ComicCon, so if you have read that information, you are completely and utterly safe. You will learn nothing more than you already have known. :D But, back on this vignet! I believe it was a very vague dream that had me think this one up. Not much else to say about it. Is meant to take place towards the end of AWE, possibly. No spoilers, just my own nonsense. :D**

**Warnings: None. Very brief language, of the briefest sorts. **

**Pairing: J/E**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own 'em.**

.Last Glance.

The wind was calling again. Enticing and calm—a sweet nectar to his broken spirit. He didn't remember walking up the gangplank to his black-winged angel, nor running a saddened hand over the smooth wood of the rail, but somehow he had gotten there.

The gentle breeze that danced in the rigging seemed to whisper consoling thoughts and the _Pearl _welcomed her dejected captain with sadness. He moved with unenthusiastic steps, his head hung low while his dreadlocks framed his face in a lonesome hollow.

In her attempts to cheer him, the _Pearl _allowed a friendly gust of wind to pick up, making the beads in his hair jingle and dance. A sad smile passed his lips at her efforts, but it was soon gone as he took the helm gently in his hands.

Ocean mist sprayed delicately against the hull like tears as the _Black Pearl_ began her departure from Port Royal.

The crew moved about their duties, but he didn't notice them. His gaze remained transfixed ahead, terrified to look away from the promising horizon that would hopefully cause him to overcome his grief.

His chocolate eyes shone with moisture, a light filming that threatened to break from the kohl-lined barrier. He blinked once, staring down at the helm and playing with the slightly chipping paint. He felt a moist river reach his cheek bone, but wiped it away before it could go any further.

He heard footsteps approach from behind and then felt the lingering presence to match. The other was silent for a good while before they spoke.

"Jack?" Gibbs prodded gently, and the captain could feel the first mate's eyes on his back.

Sparrow's eyes fell downcast as the two stood in silence. He released a quiet, unsteady breath and appeared to look behind himself. "I'm fine, Joshamee," he said in a relatively similar tone.

The only time Gibbs had heard such a tone from his captain before was when he'd been told that the _Pearl_ was only a ship. He hadn't believed him then, and he didn't believe him now. He did, however, respect his captain enough to adhere to his wishes, no matter how mulish.

He nodded, though Jack was unable to see him do so, and left.

Jack inhaled deeply and held it for a moment, his hands gripping the prongs of the wheel a little tighter. The pain in his chest was almost physical, and though the Caribbean sun shone brightly, he shivered at the sudden cold that only he felt.

This feeling was relatively new to him. He had faced heartache before, but he couldn't fathom that it had ever felt so akin to this. On the outside, his features appeared relatively stoic; he had learned to mask his thoughts well. Internally, he felt as if he had followed in his foes footsteps in tearing out his own heart. A lump rose in his throat and he struggled to force it down.

Internally, he felt as if he was only a shell—empty and in need of fulfilling.

And then, suddenly, something within him leapt for no apparent reason.

Not only was there a call of the sea, not only a call of the horizon or the song of his lady ship… but there was a beckoning that contradicted all else. It felt as if some thing or some one was gently grasping his shoulders, attempting to turn him round to spare one last glace off the _Black Pearl's _stern.

He fought it at first, knowing that if he looked back now, he would only cause himself more despair.

It was insistent though: lingering in the back of his mind, whispering gently in his ear, tugging softly at his heart. He could no longer ignore its presence. He loosened his grip on the helm, sliding his hands down the smooth wood surface. The soft wind now brushed at his face, encouraging him to turn.

It tormented him with such heartache that he could do nothing but obey. Slowly, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before turning to look over his shoulder.

He wasn't certain what he was expecting to see. Somewhat disappointed, he released his breath when nothing remarkable greeted him. The docks were humbly busy with merchant trade and sailors, though only two small fishing boats were harbored. It seemed unnaturally forgotten. Further back, he could see a handful of children giggling and giving chase to one another on a dirt path.

No matter how warm or inviting, such a place was not a home to a pirate.

So why did Jack Sparrow ache to return if only for a moment? He had missed his own opportune moment. It had passed him by and he was a fool to allow it to do so.

One last look.

One last glance had the capacity to show him all he had let slip through his fingers. He had been offered an invitation for a longer stay, but left, not seeing the sense in doing so.

His eyebrows furrowed in a saddened arch. He bowed his head, feeling a little betrayed by the innocent voice that had begged him to turn. Looking back had hurt more than he thought it would.

He closed his eyes again, emitting a heavy sigh, wiping a hand over his face. He was about to turn around when something caught his eye. His head snapped forward, his eyes locking on a sight that had not been there before.

Just off the shoreline was a slim figure standing near the lapping waves and in the most whitest of dresses ever to be seen. He felt his jaw go slack and his body go absolutely still in disbelief.

Still holding the lovely bouquet of lilies and roses tightly to her abdomen, Elizabeth Swann looked out eagerly at the magnificent black ship and the pair of dark eyes that were now locked on hers. She remained just at the edge of the beach, the water barely touching her toes.

Jack found himself taking several steps towards the stern of his ship, unable to believe his eyes. Time had slowed noticeably for the pair. Though finally realizing that she was gradually becoming smaller between distances, he snapped his head around.

"Gibbs!" he barked. "Haul in canvas!"

From the maindeck, the first mate sent a befuddled look in his captain's direction. "Cap'n?"

"Do it! Now!" His tone left no room for argument as he hastened towards the helm and took it in his grasp, spinning the wheel rapidly to the left. He cursed impressively at the lack of sufficient wind. He jerked his head to look over the rail to the deck below. "What's taking so bloody long? Haul in those sheets or I'll be keelhauling the lot of you!" Despite his manic shouting, there was a beaming smile on his face that he couldn't seem to wipe away.

Gibbs appeared at the staircase. "Jack! What in God's name is—"

"We need to go back," the captain said quickly, casting another glance behind him towards shore before turning back to Gibbs. "_Now_."

"Go _back_? We're at a steady pace now, Captain, how do you want—"

Jack swore an oath. "I don't care! Drop anchor—do _something_, man! Stop the bloody ship!" he commanded and tore away from the helm.

Let it be known that Captain Jack Sparrow was not a patient man. With such intelligence in mind, he darted for the stern and hefted himself up before diving off the back end of the ship, which was facing away from Port Royal at a thirty degree angle.

Gibbs' eyes widened in bemused shock and he rushed over to the edge to survey what possible need his Captain may have had for throwing himself into the drink. But then, as he happened to glance towards the shoreline and laid eyes on the small lithe form thereon, he began to laugh.

Back on shore, Elizabeth was taking in anxious and shallow breaths, her chest slowly heaving, her eyes searching. Then, as she saw a familiar figure leap from the ship, she did not attempt to force away the ecstatic smile.

Jack surfaced with a flourish, swearing comically as he noticed the absence of his hat. Catching it floating nearby, he snatched it and clapped it back on his head, then began to swim towards shore—a large, boyish grin stamped on his face.

Elizabeth giggled approvingly as she witnessed him in the retrieval of his hat. Her heart was pounding and skipping chaotically within her chest while a gentle fluttering accompanied her middle.

Jack quickened his pace, curious as to why he was behaving in such a way—grinning like a fool and allowing his authorative front to wash away with the tide.

Being equally, if not more, impatient as he, Elizabeth laughed joyously and threw her bouquet to the ground before jumping into the sea.

Soon Jack could feel the solid sand beneath him and he began to slosh his way through the waters that were so rudely slowing him down.

Elizabeth had tried to pick up her skirts as she ran awkwardly through the shallows, but gave up said effort and focused on her desire that lay before her. "Jack!" she cried happily as they were now both up to their mid thighs.

He laughed as well, feeling his heart tug at the sight of the tears that moistened her glassen cheeks.

Elizabeth Swann exposed the biggest smile yet that revealed all her teeth as she reached what she had so deeply longed for. She threw herself at him, her arms around his neck, and kissed him. He'd caught her in his arms, grinning still beneath her lips as he spun once around, her drenched skirts twirling and blanketing the surface of the sea.

Both were completely soaked to the bone and neither could get enough of the other.

She placed her forehead against his, smiling. "I couldn't do it," she whispered, shaking her head. "I couldn't…"

He smiled down at her, his eyes twinkling and alight. "I suspected something of that sort," he deduced. "Let us get you out of this wretched thing and into something warm."

"Still without a spare, Captain Sparrow?" she queried with mischief dancing in her eyes.

"Still," he agreed. "But I would hate to let it go to waste," he said, picking her up again and earning an elated squeal for his efforts as she laughed once more, taking his face in her hands and kissing him for all he was worth.

Back on the _Pearl_, Gibbs shook his head in wonder and chuckled to himself. "Well, I'll be damned and my whiskers with me."

**Love? Hate? Lemme know! (you know you want to press that little review button... Cotton's parrot says so.)**


	17. Author's Note 6

**Author's Note: "GAH!" they shriek. I know that I'm breaking my rule about only presenting an author's note every third chapter, but there were just so many reviews that I had to knock some of them off my list to thank. Plus, I haven't updated in quite a while, if you'll forgive me. :(**

**Lily Evanstar: Thanks very much! I'm very flattered. I'm pumped for it, too! **

**JeanieBeanie33: I have many alternate endings… :D However, about a W/E ending… I really don't want to write one, but I'm always happy to accept requests. But I don't know how well I could. It would take some effort of mine to make it believable. Not that a W/E ending isn't believable, but I'm worried that I could not write it in a believable way. I'd probably cave and throw Jack in there somewhere. Terribly sorry. :( I will try, though. :D **

**Cap'n Jack: So sorry:P Didn't mean to torment your patience with the trailer. :P**

**Anonymous: Thank you very much! I hope so, too!**

**Music Nerd: Thanks very much! **

**Willow Red: Thanks so much! I'm favorited! -squees-**

**Sleepy Lotus: Thank you so much! **

**Mar1966: Thanks so much:D I hope to make one one day. But with the books I'm writing, not with pirates. :P**

**Aka amber: So sorry, but the posting deleted the website. It is "Keep to the Code" if you didn't know. **

**NerdsUnited: Oh, that's ok. I understand. I don't think you really would've been spoiled, tho. I was being a little silly by saying so because I was pumped to get that chappie up. :P And thanks so much for the lovely review on "Last Glance". **

**Sk8er babz: Thanks much! So glad ur back! I missed you!**

**Rochelle: No, it is not real. I'm glad you like it, tho. :D The author's note for the chapter explains it better. :D **

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**If I have forgotten anyone, I'm very sorry! So many of you left wonderful reviews! Thank you so very much:D**

**You can expect the next installment probably tomorrow. :D**


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